Long Awaited Issue Number Eight Update: Billy is heading toward the circus to apply for a job. Big Sylvia continues to expand, fleeing from the promiscuous raping snowman. Andy is being petted by children who mimic Billy's indulgent licking of one's forehead. Three Jirafa Mafia workers head toward Billy's home.

A Clock ticks. Off the wall falls a doctrine. Of separation there is none. To be found is to be lost. Paradise however, may be promised. Billy remembers the old days as he drives to the circus. Memory is much less for Billy One-Arm than old Billy. It consists of broken images. Two girlish and flexible arms - Billy's own - fly like puppets in his head. Father donkey feeds fettucini to the contented arms. They are warm like babies or crying sheep. Now, Billy remembers his elementary school cafeteria. Fulfilled serves Billy a spoon of goo. It is the new goo, but still made from the old world spices. Spicy goo is not Billy's favorite and Fulfilled responds to Billy's hesitant look with: "If I were you I would commit a crime. But let me cut straight to the point. Eating goo is not a sign of conforming, but a sign of rebellion. Do you see any of the other children eating their goo? By eating goo you will make yourself the obvious choice for dictator among the children. They will adhere to your strict, but wise policies of abstinence, pertinence, continence, relevance, and mandatory phosphorescence. Billy lost water and his serenity as he remembered his boyhood dream of becoming a dictator. "Only in America can one realize his dream of dictatorship", thought Billy. So, wet Billy drove to the circus, forgetting his reasonable quest to get a job as freak, and replacing it with plans of ruling the circus like an angry man full of tobacco. Big Sylvia too, thought of tobacco, wishing to spit on the ironically white snowman. If he were sullied, he might wish he had never been so ravenous. For even little Big Sylvia knew the maxim: Despite knowing his brief time on Earth, the snowman is vain and a latent priss. Sylvia ran as fast as she could. The snowman rolled after her. His snowy tentacles were about to reach her when she found a manhole and busted her way out of the sewer. She escaped the rapacious snowman, the headless giraffe, and the woman with the pillow case over her head. They did not have the understanding or ability to get out of sewers. Upon getting out of the sewer, Big Sylvia found the child-smothered Andy. "To be petted like a mere beast", she thought. However, her own rapid gain of weight slowed her pace in running to him. The children saw Sylvia, and, realizing they were only extras in my story, made a quick run for dangerous neighborhoods where their safety would be ignored by the uncompassionate reader. When Big Sylvia reached Andy, she decided to carry him on her back. She walked on all fours, saddened by this detriment to her extreme femininity. Children who had seen her gracefully consume meat products would now laugh at her. What envy would there be for a girl who carries an injured man on her back? These fears could not stop her, though. By carrying Andy, Sylvia figured to halt her growth. She galloped as fast as is possible for a childish beast, hoping to leave Andy at his doorstep. At Andy and Billy's home, the three P&D workers were searching for clues to Billy's location. They found Billy's arm attached to the chair. The smell of mashed potatoes, meanwhile, filled the house and empty plot. Clue here: (In a whisper) Empty plot, empty plot, don't miss the subtlety, detective. Sh, the baby seals are weeping. Don't wake their feeble brains and turn them into human brains made of cheese and barley. The hand is near to its striking point, but please don't strike. All tales have tails, but point they where or why, because I say so and that's enough for any civilized child, i.e. uncritical child or child unquestioning of convention. As the three P&D workers were looking through the house, the tall member found a bloody piece of paper nailed to the wall. It read: "Billy is paying off his debt right now. He'll be right back. Please leave a message, not to be mistaken with a massage although it, too, would be appreciated. Please do not leave the massage as a message, however, as the bloody pulp on the wall is insatiable and more or less ungrateful despite my own generosity." Reading the message made the tall man cry. It brought back memories of his mother, who was fondly referred to as "bloody pulp" in the late and silent hours of his youth. When the other P&D members saw tall boy crying they were given no choice, but to shower him with orchids and rose petals and silk shoes and cashmere soup. Tall boy soon melted away, that's right - away. Once rid of tall boy, the two remaining mobsters constructed sling shots and shot out of the house and drank shots at the local bar before shooting out of the bamboo chute hut of a bar and scurried toward the circus, which was shot. (In dead monotone, even monotonous, or weary, apathetic, uncaring, without that (enigmatic, cryptic) "feeling" to which we tell poor children to read their lines) Yeah, and yeah. Editor's note to Jenny: Please read "Yeah, and yeah" pronounced as affirmations, as in yes, and yes, and not hurrah, and hurrah as enthusiastic screams of children at birthday parties with balloon animals. All other readers: Please excuse this editor's note.

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