Some Hellhole, Afghanistan---In yet another embarrassing moment, in an ongoing comedic series of blunders, missteps, malapropisms and pure goofiness, Yoslapa Big Sappa Laffden has been located hiding behind a cactus near a cave somewhere near his former mud hole camp at Tora Bora on the Afghan-Pakistani border. The smell of hydrogen sulfide gas and urea was overwhelmingly present, making the air pungent to the point of acridity. Wheezing was also a prevalent problem. You could light a match and see the air go up in fumes.
"Eating raw uncooked victuals gives me indigestion," he complained. "I need some Mary Jane to release my intentions." He started to wax nostalgic. "I dream of days of old when knights wore bones and toilette was reinvented, when you could travel alone in the middle of the road and walk away unresented. Those were the days, my friend. I thought they'd never end. Those were the days, my friend, when I wanted to move to Mad. Avenue and shoot the breeze with the local crips and bloods. I've always appreciated exchanging points of view with other kindred spirits, particularly when they can be forced to see the light."
"I also want to provide better conditions to appreciate the finer points of the human condition. People need a break from the humdrum dreary everyday grind so my gang and me are looking into running a carnival where sword swallowing and fireworks and raw brutal strength can be used to create excitement. Oh, I can see it now. Just slap me silly. This is so rich," he chortled to himself.
Yoslapa has been seen wandering the desert in a dirty robe talking to the birds for want of anything better to do. The birds were not paying attention to his ranting and raving but Yoslapa droned on. "I've got plenty of nuttin and nuttin is plenty for me," he claimed as he stood under a leftover flea market sign-HIT THE FOOL, WIN A PRIZE!
"Watch out for the piles of camel dung," he warned. "It clings to everything like nettles on the desert."
"Don't worry. Be Happy! But, Excuse me! I have words of wisdom for all. Don't step on a sleeping snake. It can uncoil in a flash. Beware the yikes of May Day. It is a pagan holiday that is not for me. Don't forget to write. You can always find me in the yellowing pages under Oslapa.
Rattles a broken stick. "How could you not get the message?