The broken smile of Walter P. Tuckson.

From the Diary of "The Oregon Trail on Acid":

Year 2:

Sitting around a slowly dieing fire, growling bellies furiously screaming "ROSEBUD....ROSEBUD."
We began to see things not of this world. I saw a giant turkely leg, dancing and singing an Irish Folk song.

I knew I must be hallucinating because my pistol told be to pay attention to Teddy T.

"Man, I'm hungry.", Said Ol' Teddy T. "I'm so hungry I could eat a goddamned horsecock."

Teddy, as you could guess was not exactly the sharpest pear in the basket of heads, but then, after 200 days of exhaustion and surviving solely on acid laced boot soles...none of us were.

"Teddy, you can't eat horsecocks. Everyone knows it's the horse anus that's most delicious.", snapped Jed the Fisherman. Jed the Fisherman, incidently knew nothing about fishing. He was called Jed the Fisherman because he loved to take Fish and stick em down his pants. Once down his pants, he would chase the local ladies with his floppy fish dangler.

"I'll fuckin' kill you, Jed, if you touch my horsie cocks.", said Teddy angrily.

Jed didn't say anything, but fired a look at me that meant serious business tea time scrumpets would soon be due. I fired him back a look that carried with it the luggage of a rich woman with side saddles.

I tried to calm everyone down, but I was so fucked up on the acid boots, that I just ended up taking off my clothes and flopping around on the ground like a worm.

"I'm the Worm King, you bastards.", I growled into the night sky.

"THE WORM KING!, I TELL YOU!!!"