"All right, look," you say.  "I'm holding up the store, so just give me all your donuts."

    "Gimme a break, Brad," says Buddy.

    "What do you mean 'give me a break'?" you say indignantly.

    "You can't hold up the store without a weapon," explains Buddy.  "Christy's policy."

    "Oh," you say.

    You walk away from the counter and the next customer steps up and puts down his purchases.

    You walk through the aisles of the Chrsity's looking for an appropriate weapon with which to hold up the store.  You consider rolling up a magazine, or maybe holding a pack of Twinkies in a threatening manner.  But you end up deciding to hold a ketchup bottle under your shirt as if it were a gun.

    You get in the check-out line again, and after a few minutes of waiting you reach the front.

    You point the t-shirt-covered ketchup bottle at Buddy as threateningly as you can manage.

    "OK," you say with determination.  "This time I'm serious.  Just hand over the big bag of donuts, cause I'm holding up the store, ol' Buddy-boy."

    "Shit, Brad, you really want me to hit the alarm button?" asks Buddy.

    "Do it at your own risk," you tell him.  "Now just put the donuts up here on the counter where I can see 'em."

    "It's a fuckin' ketchup bottle, Brad.  I saw you take it.  What are you gonna do... pour it on me?"

    "Don't make me do something crazy!  Just gimme the donuts!  Gimme!" you shout.

    "Okey-dokey, Brad," says Buddy.

    He pushes the foot-triggered alarm button as he puts your jumbo bag of donuts back on the counter.

    "Smart move, Buddy... smart move," you say.  "Now, I'll just be on my way..."

    You put the ketchup bottle down on the counter and throw the bag of donuts over your shoulder.

    You turn to walk out the door and immediately run into two of Sharon's finest who happened to be parked right outside the entire time.

    You are cuffed and brought to the station.

    ...
 
    Sandy bails you out the next morning.

    Your trial comes two weeks later in the Essex county community court.

    You are passionately represented by Merv, who dons a suit for the occasion -- the first time since his wedding day.

    "Your honor," says Merv, "my client had a warped childhood, and was molested by his uncle.  When he was a teenager his sister kicked him in the sack -- sometimes as much as six times a day.  When he married, his wife left him for a woman.  And on the day of the alleged crime, his hair suddenly fell out for no reason -- no reason other than that his life had been a long series of one senseless tragedy after another.

    "Can you truly look at this boy and not feel anything but pity?  Can you know of the pain he has suffered in this life, and yet still condemn him for thinking that just maybe just once the world owed him a bag of donuts for its crimes against him?

    "I leave it to your conscience to decide..."

    Merv sits down and the judge immediately sentences you to twelve years in maximum security prison.

    ...

    Life in the big house is pretty hard at first.

    But it gets a little easier when you try to imagine it as one giant basement.

    Buddy feels pretty guilty about selling you down the river, and he sends you care packages with plenty of donuts and microwavable burritos.

    The extra supply of food makes you a popular inmate.

    One fellow prisoner, a 290 pound scary-looking dude with scars on his face and a lazy eye, takes a particular liking to you.

    His name is Bubba.

    He's in for jay-walking.

    Bubba's really a sweet guy, though.  The two of you become something of an item over the next couple months.

    Then Bubba dumps you for Tommy the Snake.

    You are totally heart-broken.

    ...Until Merv breaks you out one night at the break of dawn.

    You get back home and lay low for a while in the basement.

    Apparently no one really noticed you've escaped.

    Slowly your life begins to return to its normal state.

    ...

    After a few months on monoxidil, your 'fro even starts to grow back in.

    But your penis noticeably shrivels.

    You decide that you'll have to ask Buddy for the number of his cock shrink.