Lucky Charms

Deep in a green glen there dwells a pink cloud. Pepto Bismol pink. Only worse. On this pink cloud you'll see a young man. Don't approach. 'Tis Lucky Charms, the demented Irishman. He spends his days drinking fermented ink -- er, Guinness -- and plotting world domination. Or trying to figure out how to keep his socks from disappearing. You never know.

Occasionally you'll hear the sound of typing and giggling. Not the fiendish and slightly hysterical giggling of a serial killer, but the happy sound of a young girl. That's when you know he's written *another* sex scene you'll never see. Or that he's framed someone else for a crime he committed. That's half the fun of *committing* the crime, don'tcha know.

If you *must* visit the pink cloud, be sure to come bearing Dr. Pepper -- the drink of gods -- and small animals you no longer want. He likes them for... research. That's it. Research.