I've been accused of spiraling further and further into literary chaos with this blog. It seems there are a growing number of people that find my occasional lack of logic/continuity unpleasant. Maybe it reminds them of their terrible childhood or some time spent in prison, where they had to turn a little gay just to survive. I don't know. Either way, never say that I'm not willing to accommodate, because, instead of my usual nonsensical buffoonery, I'll simply leave you with this: a break dance battle at an upscale hotel. Can't get much more normal than that.
While he made a sterling effort, Frank's impressive moves weren't enough to combat Dick's unusually trendy hat and snake skin boots. Veronica would end up in Dick's room that night. The night would end in tears and one hell of a mistake, in the white trash baby that was to be born 8.5 months later. It would be the worst homecoming/bar mitzvah she'd ever attend. Frank on the other hand would go one to lead one of the most successful ponzi schemes known to man. How’d he pull it off you ask? Break Dancing.
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