Ralph Balf

Ralph Balf slipped on his rubber pants and took a seat on his marshmallow couch. He was ready to watch his teleshow programs, so he grabbed his demote control and slapped on his cat fur sleeping mask, because he felt it healthy to deprive himself of what he desired, and he liked the feeling of being allergic. In fact, he paid high price Hanukah dollar to a shady rug dealer for some sweet street stash of pollen dander baggies to dangle before heavyset socialite daughters at pie society events. "I'll give you some of this if you give me some of that."

"I got an itch for an itch!" said Ralph Balf to the discreet dealer, who was standing on the street corner suckin' on a rolled up cold cut between two fingers and blowin' out puffs of cracked black peppercorn dust. "I'm lookin' to score!" Ralph continued. The negotiations began.

"What score?" said our baloney bad boy.
"A high score." said Ralph Balf
"What game?"
"Golf." said Ralph.
"Hey man, that's a low score."
"Fine, soccer."
"Alright, now we're talkin'."
"Could you gimme the goods, pretty sneeze?!"
"Okay pay the sniper."
"These coins are made of choco." said Ralph Balf,
"Sweet!" said the dander dealer, as he stuck out his hand transplant.

Ralph Balf dropped his melted choco coins in it. Across town, No Hand Dan said "Hey that's sticky."
"They melted." said Ralph.
"Even better." said the sneeze dealer, as he smeared the choco change on his fat cheeks into porkchocolate sideburn configurations.
"I'm Fondue Elvis." he said.

Anyway, your digress is as good as mine, let me return to the top, can I get a receipt? As I was spraying, he dewatched his flavorite programs on cello vision, but thought they lacked violin.

Suddenly it was daily workout time. He leapt up, set his couch on fire, put on his grocery bag shoes, tied his spaghetti laces, they broke off he ate 'em, took a swig of marinara mouthwash, and put out the couch.

"I don't deserve these nice things." he mumbled quietly to himself.

Ralph hopped into his leaf blower engined automobile, rolled down the dough paved driveway, and submerged into the Nascar lane. He got violently fender bendered in a four car smile up. He walked away with a few scratch and sniffs and a couple of extra teeth, but he had bass and treble speaking when he exercised at the community cranberry juice swimming pool and went for a memory jog on the urinary race track inflection, so no one understood what he was saying. But they kind of did in an emotional sort of way, because the words weren't what mattered as much as the feeling, which was bumpy, lumpy, sandy, dandy, and peach, but Ralph didn't speak braille so he couldn't understand his feelings.