But when the pandas came to my door last night, I began to doubt.

They spoke of the trouble in the north, of sheeting death by orange death blossoming carrot heads, and their infernal racket in the dearth of the night via those strange tomato thingies

but we were talking, you remember, about how you stole that watch from me, because you had to give it to the alien scientists who had kidnapped Madonna's brain and replaced it with a lettuce (but who can tell) and I asked you, over and over, how you thought I'd not be able to tell a Timex from a Rolex

But you kept ticking, despite that incessant pounding in my head which told me that in these excedrine moments, you need your friends the most, because who else is going to protect you from those fascist bastards up on 12th street and their campaigns for Cybernetic Totalitarianism, the nanite loving soup nazis.

I doubted the wisdom of your pleas for amnesty, in light of your assassination of our nation's proudest moments of insecurity, but you proved me wrong at the Year 2000 MTV Music Video awards when you forced the basist of Rage Against The Machine to climb the set with your strange gothic mind powers, and suddenly I knew you were

The head cheese spoke, in his strange, ever wary voice, and he said to me, that thing he says when he says those things, like

Do that voodoo you do so well, baby.

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