I was in Target when an incredibly violent urge overcame me. There was a small child next to me named Toby. Let’s just call him Steve. I punched Toby in the mouth and he began to cry instantly. His mother was nowhere in sight, so I picked him up, threw him in my car and drove to Juneau, Alaska. Upon our arrival there, we met some friendly Eskimos who took a liking to Toby. As a result, I traded him to the natives for an igloo and half a manatee. After a few weeks, the igloo melted and the manatee no longer entertained me. I began to feel guilty for trading the poor boy, so I ventured into the Alaskan wilderness to rescue him. 3 days and 121 dead Eskimos later, I found him and flew him back to Baltimore. His mother lives in Albuquerque.