As ever I am here to tell you the truth and only the truth.
There has been a lot of concern over the dissapearence of Denise (aka the artist formerly know as Ohhh my wrist hurts)
was the artist
1. Abducted by a U.F.O. (maybe)
2. Driving off into the sunset with Thelma and Louise? (this makes you think)
3. Robbing banks in Boliva? (too macho)
4. The flower arranger for J-los most recent marrage? (there has been talk that he is magic with flowers)
Or did he get his dream job as
1. Tony-D’s personal dock boy?
2. Bill Dance’s make-up man(?) and personal groomer.
3. Ravens clean-up specialist.
Well no… The artist formerly know as Oh big fish scare me
is doing nothing of the sort.
I will now tell my tale, but please take into account this is a most disturbing tale… A tale with a unhappy ending.
And a tale so scary I advise you to read it in the light of day. And if I have to end it it is only because ther after me…
A long time ago in a strange land (North Dakota) there was a famous (o.k. not so famous but he wanted to be) wallnutter, named Denise Flom.
Yes he won trophies and money, but he never could get over the hump into the big time, It was always someone else Ted Takasaki, got it one year over our hero. Another year it was won in a last minute entry by Carson Cresley. Another year it came down to the wire again and Harvy Firestein brought home the hardware. (and fame)
As you know some people will do anything to become rich and famous. After one of his dramatic last minute losses our hero was attempting to drown his sadness with a cold Hamm’s light and some warm company (if you know what I mean ) 
At a bar north of Milli Lax (ative) called the “Y”
As he ordered his Hamm’s (with a fuzzy navel chaser) He noticed a tall cool drink of water looking at him from the other side of the fire pit. With a wink and a wave our hero (iwilldoanythingtocatchsmallsnauggers)was invited over. Our heros company bought another round of Hamm’s this time both had fuzzy navel chasers..
Well the Hamm’s just kept getting colder and the navels fuzzier. And without getting to graphic lets just say our hero tossed a salad with a little “surp” on the side.
The next morning our hero did not even know the name of his love interest or for that matter what kind of work or interests were shared. But he knew that it was love (or something close) Our hero took in his hand there hand and after professing unending love asked the name of his betrothed. In a rather gravly voice the answer was call me old Joe.
Installment #2 soon
See ya 
Bowfin
