Total Pillow - Dictated by Dr. James "Mountain Top!" Johnson, PhD Disclamer: He is not a certified physician.- Typed by Josiah "Shilo Buff" Johnson

Alright, so I haven't written anything in the last five months. Okay, I lied, I've written tons of stuff. School work, I've signed stuff, done more school work, wrote comments on Facebook, did backbreaking schoolwork, "accidentally" updated tons of statuses as comments on my sister's Facebook in a completely incoherent fashion to what she had written, did pointless schoolwork, and did some homework. But I haven't yet updated my blog. So I will now proceed to inform of what happened yesterday. I was on my way to the NYPD headquarters (New York Peace Destroyers if you remember correctly, New Yummy Pickle Dip if you don't) to offer them a peace treaty. It was a scroll ten cubits wide and fifty long when fully extended. Its paper was made from the wood of a St. Helena Gumwood, a rare and endangered breed of tree, the dowels at each end were made of ivory from the tusks of rare Cambodian elephants, and it was written in Latin with the blood of Conan O'Brien serving as ink. It roughly translated to, "Hey, sign right down there on that line at the bottom of this page for peace. Thanks." I had it printed out at Walgreens for a dollar. I marched right inside and lay the scroll down on the table. I translated and explained the rarity and importance of every material that went into the scroll. Once I had read the message, I laid the scroll down on the table for the goon at the desk to sign, and even provided the quill. He gave me a strange look, then put on his reading glasses and carefully looked over the paper for a while. After a few seconds, he looked up with a chuckle that took my soul to hell and back, then to Chuck E. Cheese's, to Menards to buy a hammer, and then back again. He asked with a vial tongue, "Are you serious?" After about five minutes of uninterrupted locked eyes and an unforgiving glare that stared into his wretched soul, he cleared his throat, then piped up, "There's a mental clinic just down the road, I'll have a ride arranged for you shortly. I exploded, "I have no quarrels with the fellows at the mental clinic! It would be trivial to have them sign this treaty!" After a few awkward moments he replied, "Treaty, huh? Looks like a bunch of scribblings on a piece of green construction paper with a blue crayon, glued to a dirty stick." He mocked the fine construction of my scroll. I went outside and walked down the street to the mental clinic. I marched inside the doors just as firmly as I had at the NYPD, then slammed the treaty on the desk and demanded that they join me in war against the putrid nation of the Peace Destroyers. The woman at the desk gave me a sinister grin and said, "Well alright then, let's just do that. Do you have any relatives at home?" Of course. She needed recognition of my noble status to ever think of joining me in war against such a foul gang as the NYPD. I replied, "Yes, as a matter of fact my father is at home, he shall be able to tell you of my nobility." She replied, "Alright, can I have his phone number?" I gave her the information she needed. She went into another room for about five minutes, then emerged with a line of soldiers wearing their nation's color, white. They strapped me into my command chair, then brought me to my room, padded as to absorb shocks from any attacks on the fortress. From there I commanded them for the rest of the night until I was released to go home. When I walked out I could tell we had won, because none of the blue colors or copper badges signifying the infamous NYPD could be seen for miles. I threw a homeless man out of his box behind my house and went to bed in it knowing I was a champion.