My name is Jamal Bunghole. I'm also known as JB. I've lived a very interesting life, but I didn't notice it until last week when I was at the bar. "Hey, Joe Mamma, hit me with another jolt, bunghole."

"Jamal, you obsessed with jolt or somethin'?"

" I have been since I first tasted it, bunghole."

"When was that?"

"When I was two months old, bunghole."

"Holy mamma! Wouldn't that be knockin' you out or something?"

"It hasn't. I'm still living."

"Jamal, someday you gotta tell me about your life. Why don't you write an autobiography?"

"Well, there's that writer bunghole. Call him over here. Maybe he can write it down." I was talking about Poikerty Jalentinne. He was a writer from Australia that had been hanging around the bar lately.

"Yo, Poikerty, come over here and I'll hit you with a Fosters!"

"Sure. Didn't know you Americans had Foster. Never knew you could drink real beer." He drank it up quickly.

"If you write down what Jamal over here has to say I'll hit you with another one." Said Joe Mamma.

"Sure, but if it gets published I'd better get some credit. Otherwise I'll take the two of you out into the outback and feed you to a pack of wild dingoes."

"Okay, We were warned. Jamal, don't say 'Bunghole' too much.'"

"Well, my life began when I was two months old-" I began to say, "I had just had my first bottle of jolt. Up until then life was nothing but sitting around and eating that baby food crap. When I tasted jolt I began to realize that life was something to enjoy, so I began to enjoy it. It was 1980, and MTV had just started. I found out that it was channel three, and I put some kind of lock on the TV so that you'd have to destroy it in order to turn it off MTV. A life changing experience happened when I was three. I saw a video while drinking my fifth bottle of jolt that day. I saw a guy with awesome, green and purple hair, and noticed how pathetic I was. I could do anything with my hair that I wanted, but did I? No, I didn't. I decided to change that. I got my parents to take me to the haircutter, but I didn't cut my hair. I stole a bottle labeled 'Instant Hair Growth (Warning: Not for children)' and put it on my hair. Then I ran home and decided what to do with it. Let's see. Why not watch MTV? What video did I see? I saw a Jamaican video. I saw the guys dreadlocks, and I knew that that was what I wanted to do with my hair. I called 1-800 DIAL MTV and asked how you make dreadlocks. The guy on the phone said, 'I think you put stuff on your hair that makes it stiff, and then you can do cool stuff with it.' So I looked through everything in my parent's bathroom cabinet for a hair stiffener. I saw a jar labeled 'Dr. Kahn's STIFFENER' and dumped it on my head. Then I made some makeshift dreadlocks. When my parents saw them they said, 'We're going to get rid of those dreadlocks.'

'No.'

'Yes.'

'NO!'

'Okay, let's move to Jamaica and all get dreadlocks.' They were trying to use reverse psychology, but I just reversed them back.

'Sure! Let's go to Jamaica!'

'Oops, I forgot. We don't have enough money.' They were desperate to make up for their mistake.

'Oh, just walk on without them noticing you. I saw it once on MTV. And anyway, didn't you just rob that bank?' I had won. We were going to Jamaica."

"They would give in that easily, mate?" Poikerty asked.

"I guess so. They weren't too smart."

"Well, what happened? Did ya get tired of it?"

"No. I lived my life there, and learned how to make some real dreadlocks. That was where I met Fracola. He's a guy with the dark oval eyes and the hairdo almost as freaky as mine. Through Fracola I met Snort. He's a fat guy that slightly resembles a pig. Well, we would play hooky and everything, and we'd always pick on a geik named Mr. McFliy. We loved picking on him because his parents were millionaires and he was always paying us off not to beat him up. The problem with Jamaica was that the cable companies were terrible there, so I couldn't watch too much MTV.

"Well, how did you get to the states?" Asked Joe Mamma.

"The cable company announced that they were getting rid of MTV, so I caught a plane backwith Mr. Mcfliy's money. The US is where I am today."

"Jamal, do you have any idea who I am?" Asked Joe Mamma while Poikerty walked out the door.

"You're a bartender. You have been for the past two weeks that I've been in the US."

"Only for those two weeks. I'm an undercover agent. You're under arrest."

"Huh?"

"You know what you did. You were the one that made sure Fidel Castro didn't get to the US."

"Huh?"

"Fidel Castro was coming to the US, but there was no plane ready in Cuba. The US didn't want to make a bad impression, so they called up Jamaican to send a plane over."

"Huh?"

"Then trouble started. Ya see, it was a sold out flight, so they call a passenger off the plane. But the passenger did not want to get off. He walked off, delayed Fidel, and then bought some Fidel mask or somethin' to impersonate Fidel. Impersonatin' Fidel, He boarded the plane. When the plane landed a whole lot of trouble started brewing. Ya see, Cuba be mad at everybody, Jamaica be mad at everybody, and the US be mad at everybody. To sum it up, everybdoy's mad at everybody. The UN can't handle it, and there's a possibility that there might be a big war. They'll all call the war off if the passenger that made all of the trouble is executed."

"What makes you think I'm the troublemaker, bunghole?" I was, but under these circumstances I wouldn't admit it.

"The guy who was called off the plane had dreadlocks."

"Every bunghole from Jamaica has dreadlocks."

"The pilot called off a certain seat. The guy who had bought those seats didn't have dreadlocks. He had traded his tickets to a white guy with angry eyes and dreadlocks. Let's see. Your eyes are angry all the time, and you be a white guy, and you got some mad dreadlocks. He also said that the guy he traded them to was a teenager, that would be you, had a shirt that said 'BUNGHOLE,' that would be you, and repeatedly said 'Bunghole.'"

"You have no proof, bunghole."

"Oh, but you know I'll find some. I am Joe Mamma. The agent Joe Mamma." I decided to call up Fracola and Snort and try to find some way to avoid Joe Mamma. This is the conversation I had with Fracola. "Hey, Fraco, I'm in some deep trouble."

"Whassup? How's it going"

"I'm about to be executed."

"What? Why?"

"You see, I did something bad to Fidel Castro, and made Jamaica, Cuba, and the US mad at each other. I could have even triggered a war."

"Cool!"

"Well, can you round up Snort? There's this guy named Joe Mamma, and he's trying to bust me."

"All right. We'll catch a flight to the states."

"I hope they haven't cancelled the flights to the US."

"They would have announced it. We'll be their tomorrow." He kept his word. The next day Fracola and Snort were in the states.

"Hey, Jamal, this is Snort. I want to know what's happening." Snort was talking to me on the phone.

"Well, in order to get to the states and not be left in Cuba, I had to do something bad to Fidel Castro."

"Oh, so you were the one that busted Jamaica's reputation. You're famous." "You mean infamous. Well, a man named Joe Mamma is out to get me. He says that the only way for there to be peace between Cuba, Jamaica and the US is for me to be executed. You've gotta get him off my case."

"Well, I'll put Fracola on the phone. He does the plans, I do the busting." "Don't worry, Jamal, you don't have to tell the story all over again. The phone was in speaker mode." Said Fracola.

"Good."

"Well, why don't you come to Jamaica? Joe Mamma's probably lost when he leaves the US."

"Actually, I don't think that would work. He seemed like a pretty professional agent. Anyway, the flights to Jamaica have probably been canceled."

"Well, why don't you come over to our place? It's on-" He was cut off by a familiar voice.

"Yo, I got this on tape! This is some mad evidence!" It was Joe Mamma listening in on our conversation. Don't ask me how he managed to pull that one off. Then there was the click of a telephone hanging up. Little did I know that it was a fake click.

"Jamal? Who was that?" Asked Fracola.

"That, Fracola, was Joe Mamma. The agent Joe Mamma."

"Oh no. He was listening in. Guess we need a new plan. We need to steal that tape from Joe Mamma. We'll have to draw him away from where he works, find out where he works, and destroy the tape."

"I hope that's easier done that said."

"Well, anyway, why don't you try to find out where he works? Actually, I'll try and find out where he works. He won't recognize me if I disguise my voice." I forgot that I had described both Fracola and Snort to Joe Mamma. This is what happened, or at least what Fracola said happened. He walked in to the bar and said, "Who's the bartender here?"

"That would be me. Joe Mamma is at yo service."

"Oh, you're Joe Mamma. I've heard good things about your bartendership from a friend of mine named... um... Hackaboo."

"Look, I don't know nobody named Hackaboo. Well, wait. I think I've heard a description of you before. Let's see, It's all comin' back to me now. YES! Dark, oval eyes. Hairdo almost as freaky as," he paused, "You know Jamal Bunghole!"

"What are you talking about. I know a man named John. I know a man named Jack. I know a man named Jamal, but his name is Jamal Johnson." Fracola said, completely startled.

"Look, yo. Jamal Bunghole is in some deep trouble with Jamaica, Cuba, and the US. Right now he's the hottest felon I know of. If you help him, you could be executed as well."

"How could I help a man that I do not know?" Just then Snort walked in. He forgot to disguise his voice, so Joe Mamma recognized him from the telephone conversation.

"Is there a Joe Mamma here? I heard that John Travolta's Mafia contacts are out to get him."

"Let's see. Snort-" Joe Mamma was about to retell my description.

"Yeah?" Snort asked, stupidly.

"Yes, Snort. Slightly fat guy. Resembles a pig." Joe Mamma said with a smile.

"Uh, do we know each other?" Asked Snort.

"Now we do. I am Joe Mamma. The agent Joe Mamma."

Fracola quickly shoed Snort away to their hotel. Just then a huge scream came from the neighboring hotel room. We walked in. Who we saw was Exelstan, an old friend from Jamaica. Apparently he was watching MTV and Celine Dion's Titanic song came on. No one in their right mind likes that song. He saw us and said, "Hey, Fracola, Jamal, Snort! I didn't know you lived in the states!"

"Exelstan, I never needed you more than right now." You see, Exelstan was very stealthful, and Joe Mamma had never seen him. We told him our story, and asked him to help us.

"Well, is it exciting?" He asked.

"Exelstan, this will be the most exciting thing you have ever done."

"Okay. Who are we up against?"

"Joe Mamma. The agent Joe Mamma."

"What's this guy like?"

"If you're a felon, he's your worst nightmare." Said Fracola.

"What's my job?"

"Well, first of all, you have to find out where Joe Mamma works."

"All right."

"All right. I'll go down to the bar to monitor things." Fracola wore a disguise and pretended to be a new customer. This is what he told me he saw at the bar:

Exelstan walked in and said, "Give some Jamaican, I mean Barbados rum." He said.

"Wait. You crossed out Jamaica. Why? Who do you resemble? Let's see. Weird hair: Gotta be Jamal Bunghole. Yo, what do you know about Jamal Bunghole?" Joe Mamma said to himself.

"Oh, back in Jamaica he used to cut my hair."

Exelstan was playing it really well. Joe Mamma glanced suspiciously at him, and then said, "Okay. Yo said ya wanted Barbados rum? We don't have that."

"Hm. Do you have Jamaican?"

"Yeah, we do. Lately a lotta people be comin in and askin' for Jamaican. Then Joe Mamma made a mistake. He reached up to the top shelf for the Jamaican rum. Clumsily, he knocked down a cartoon that was right next to it. Exelstan said, "Wait, let me see that."

"Sure. I drew it myself." Joe Mamma was letting his head get big.

"Well, lately I've been making a collection of cartoons," Exelstan lied, "I have unreleased stuff from Bill Waterson, Doonesbury, and all of that. We even have some stuff from cartoonists you'd never have heard about. Why don't I come over to your place at, say, five o'clock?"

"Okay."

"Where do you live?"

"I live two blocks to the west in the green house," he said, while Fracola was grinning like a glutton.

Instead of just Exelstan going, Fracola, Snort, Exelstan and I went. Our plan was to have Exelstan walk in, and then he would say, loudly, something about how he had just interviewed a guy named Q-Tip, and then we would all run in. We would be standing outside the door, waiting for word to come. "So, how are you doing?" Exelstan asked.

"Just dandy. Yo, I'll take you into my room. That's where all of the good stuff is."

We couldn't hear anything after that until they walked out of Joe Mamma's room, and Exelstan said, "This is really good stuff. I was just interviewing someone, and I thought his stuff was good, but yours is ten times as good."

"What was his name, yo?"

"His name was," Exelstan paused, fake coughed, and said, loudly, "Q-Tip."

We came running in right away. Joe Mamma said, "Yo, that's Jamal Bunghole and company! Yo, keep away!"

"In your dreams!" Snort bellowed.

Snort ran at Joe Mamma, trying to tackle him. Instead of Snort busting Joe Mamma, Joe Mamma bent down, and threw Snort into his closet. Snort didn't care, he's very tolerant to pain. He got up again and charged. Joe Mamma caught his arm, and hurled him out the door. Then Fracola ran towards Joe Mamma, while Exelstan was trying, unsuccessfully, to rip Joe Mamma's head off. Fracola dove at Joe Mamma, but Joe jumped and Fracola bumped into the closet. Fracola got up, wobbled around like I must have when I took my first sip of jolt, was about to hit Joe again, but then Joe Mamma picked Exelstan up by the head and banged him over Fracola's head. Both hit the closet. It was me and Joe Mamma. I knew I couldn't take him alone. I needed something special. I saw a bottle of jolt lying on the top of the closet. I knew that that was the answer. I ran up to Joe Mamma, put my hands on his head, and catapulted myself up to the jolt. I took a sip, and got hyper. I jumped down, and my foot was about to deform his nose, but he quickly raised his left hand, caught my shoe, and slammed me to the ground. I was in no shape to fall unconscious, though. I had taken a sip of jolt. I sprinted at him, and was about to smack him as hard as I want to smack Celine Dion, but he shot his arm out and knocked me back ten feet. I was on the verge of giving up, but then suddenly I heard a whole lot of cursing coming from outside the broken down door. I knew it was Snort. He ran at Joe, but Joe just stuck out his hand and stopped him. Then he pushed him back towards the door. Snort yelled, "AAAAAAAAAH! DIE!" So loud that it woke up Fracola and Exelstan.

"Jamal, what are these birds doing flying around my head?" Exelstan asked. "Here, take a sip of this jolt." I said, passing him the jolt. We each took turns, and slowly started converging in on Joe Mamma.

"Here, why don't we work this out? I'll talk to Clinton, Fidel, and Percival. Maybe they'll decide not to execute you."

"Okay." I said. Happy days were here again.

The next day Joe Mamma told me that the UN would decide if I was worthy enough to be spared. If I wasn't, I'd be thrown in the East River and the war wouldn't happen, but if I was worthy, my life would be spared and the UN would demand that Bill Clinton, Fidel Castro, and Percival Patterson save the war for later. I was going to wear a blazer or something to make a good impression, but that would ruin my reputation for never dressing like a numskull. I might have done something about my dreadlocks, but I had spent a long time making them unique the day before, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to do it again. When I landed in New York and went to the UN, I learned that it would be televised. I liked that idea, because then if they decided to spare my life I would be famous, and, who knows? Maybe Busta Rhymes would ask me to give him ideas for his hair, or maybe even Marilyn Manson! I walked into the room where all of the representatives of different countries were standing. One of them started interviewing me. "What's your name?"

"Jamal Bunghole." The UN people oohed and aahed.

"Where were you born?"

"The US." The US people started applauding, while the UN people oohed and aahed.

"When did you move to Jamaica?"

"1983." The UN people oohed and aahed.

"What do you do for a living?"

"Give people dreadlocks." The UN people oohed and aahed, but that didn't matter. What mattered was whether or not Busta Rhymes or Marilyn Manson were oohing and aahing.

"What's your favorite sport?"

"Ever since the Tyson incident it's been boxing." The UN people oohed and aahed, but, just to make sure, they took a step back from me.

"Who's your favorite athlete?"

"Mike Tyson." The UN people oohed and aahed, and took another step back. "What's your favorite food?"

"Spam with sugarcane." The UN people didn't ooh or aah, they tried to restrain themselves from puking.

"What's your favorite beverage?"

"Jolt." The UN people oohed and aahed.

"That's all of the questions we have for you. Now the UN will take a vote," He said, "All in favor of feeding him to the fishes raise your hand," about half of the people raised their hands, "All in favor of sparing the man, raise your hand," The other half of the people raised their hands. The man said, "It seems as if we have a tie, and that's impossible because we have an odd number of people. Who didn't vote?"

"No hablo ingles!" A Spanish sounding voice said from the crowd.

"You don't speak English? You're in the UN, for goodness sakes!"

"No hablo ingles!"

"Okay. Que quieras hacer?" The man said. The Spanish guy started jabbering on and on in Spanish, and then the man said, "He says to spare Jamal's life, but only because he's weird. He says that if he becomes normal that he'll change his mind and that Jamal will spend a long time playing poker with the devil." I rejoiced, but it didn't hit me until later that, if I had putten on that blazer or gotten rid of my dreadlocks, I wouldn't have lived. From now on, in lives to come, I will always be weird.