It had been nearly three years since Minoloo had quit his job at the Russian moon, and Minoloo had lost his street corner. He had been making a decent amount of money as an escort because the majority of his clients were impressed by his seashell collection. But, as fate takes its toll, more and more were converting to obamaism and poor Minoloo was outcasted.
Unable to pay his landlord, Minoloo was kicked out of his seaside apartment and began living with his sister Areola. Areola's apartment was decked out in meaningful quotes such as "Eat ass smoke grass and sled fast" or "do you know da wey", and she was almost never home, so Minoloo decided to use her apartment as his office for his new business.
His first client was a slovenly potato of a man, named chip. He wanted to know what kind of pizza Minoloo would make.
"I don't make pizza" said Minoloo in an almost perfect lisp free speaking voice. He had nearly mastered speaking with no tongue. The man questioned why he himself was there and what business Minoloo was actually starting. Minoloo replied reluctantly, now uncomfortable because the man infront of him began to look angry. "I'm a professional face poker" Minoloo lied. He had not infect thought of how he was going to run his business of face poking.
"But I wanted pizza." the man replied, his head beginning to swell with anger, Minoloo could smell danger, and this moment smelled like wet pavement. The man's head exploded shortly after our brave protagonist Minoloo pulled out a white umbrella.
Removing the umbrella shield from his eyes, Minoloo looked at the potato corpse in front of him who had died of pizza anger. The worst kind of anger. He gasped as he realized the contents of the man's skull were orphan tears. Orphan tears glow in the dark.
"No, it's happening again!" cried Minoloo before jumping out of his boob cousin's 4th floor apartment window.
