Accidentally married a raccoon in Vegas.

Bought him a tiny tuxedo. Regret nothing.

Called Mom. She cried and sent snacks.

Decided to name him Greg.

Everyone said, “You need help.”

Fired from my job for “rodent nepotism.”

Greg now runs the company.

He promoted himself to CEO of Snacks.

I found that inspirational.

Jumped on a trampoline to celebrate.

Knocked over my neighbor’s hot tub—again.

Lawsuit pending. Worth it.

Met a wizard on Craigslist.

Now I smell like cinnamon and regret.

Ordered a dragon egg online. Shipping was fast.

Probably not legal.

Quickly became a neighborhood fire hazard.

Rented my closet to three raccoons and a goose.

Starting to suspect Greg is forming a union.

Tried to reason with them.

Unfortunately, they demanded dental insurance.

Very hard to negotiate with creatures holding glitter knives.

Woke up wearing a cape and zero context.

X-ray shows a kazoo lodged in my ribcage.

Yelled “PLOT TWIST” and ran into the woods.

Zombies won’t chase you if you’re weirder than they are.