Once upon a time it happened and I was kicked in the teeth by a hungry piranha. Who at the time was licking the ice cream out of the bowl I had dropped on the kitchen ceiling. I reluctantly hopped energetically out of my bedroom to notice the racket going on seventeen houses down the street. The pit bull called horatio was involved in some Shakespearian play. The dog recited his lines perfectly and executed a flawless leglift on the yellow thing on our lawn. My mother who was not impressed by this called 911 to inspire the poet down the street to write her a love] poem about German crickets and nostril hairs in the moon light. Moon light is one word but the reader of this absurdity must keep in his or her (gender neutral) mind that this is the dog who is telling the story. I disturbed the peatmoss on my horific exit out of the house and the mice in the basement were dazzled by this action. The lightbulb that I had turned off beforehand was unbelievably still off!! Some things in this world would never cease to amaze my genius. As if I had severe whooping cough, I bolted across the street to my bicycle which I had deposited in the compost pile for safe keeping. It was, as I already knew, safe. Safe as the moon in a deep fryer. Safe as this asterisk in this sentence (*). One may argue this fact because the asterisk could give them ink poisoning if they inhale this putrid mixture of unsafe chemicals. But I avoid inhale the paper as much as I avoid riding my bike. Why bolt to my bike then, huh? As you properly assumed I was an active member in the FBI and ripping this supercycle out of the smelly poo poo compost pile was crucial to the well being of the country. Knowing how important this was I acted as natural as I could be and was in turn nailed by a peterbilt rig pulling burn outs up and down our residential area. Though startled I felt fine. I refused the drivers help and said I would walk to the critical condition ward in the hospital. Once again I thanked him and waved good bye. I didn't let him see me wince in pain once. As soon as he was safely out of sight I fell to the ground and died. After I got tired of being dead I proceeded to the supermarket to see the people run away and steal cans of fruit in this panick. The whole purpose of this story was for the reader to return the number of times the word safe and its derivatives and mail this to P.O. box number 123abc and if you get the correct number we will mail you back your piece of paper. Have a truck.