When I was the same size as a runt kitten, I made crayon sketches of Elvis for my crazy grandmother who had just 1 lung (the other one was eaten by lung-hungry Pygmies). She encouraged me to draw other singers, so I concentrated on Faron Young and Ferlin Husky till my thumbs grew so strong that I could lift her high above my head by hooking 1 thumb under her left arm and the other one in the hollow indentation caused by that major Pygmy lung-attack of long ago. One day, while we were enjoying a heaping plate of gray squirrel toes, granny had a brutal heart attack and died instantly. I panicked, admittedly, and mistakenly called Big Bob's Pygmy Hotline instead of a doctor. Pygmies arrived and took her corpse away. I told an Elvis impersonator about it and he sang six songs that reminded me of Ferlin Husky. Several years later I bought a large painting that depicted ***** midgets enjoying a night at the opera, ghetto-style. It's an awful painting that exploits Negroes a lot. I asked a local gang of ***** gangsters what they thought about it, but they only understood Ebonics and tried to **** me so I quickly got away before they could **** me up big-time.