Fayner Posts: A couple of months ago, TR and Keith took in her little brother, Tyler, 18, and are currently acting as his parents until he graduates high school. Keith and I enjoy testing his intellegence, not because he’s dumb but because we know that one day he might actually…ah…um..whatever, fuck it, the kid ain’t no rocket surgeon, you dig? But he blurts out wrong information with such conviction, we’re always guaranteed a good laugh no matter what we ask him.

He also does some strange things. For instance, he carries around this little lock box wherever he goes. You know the kind, one of them crappy little jobs a retarded monkey could open it with one foot while drunk.

So what is inside this lock box of his?

Hitler’s never-published book of love poems?

The map to Jimmy Hoffa’s skeleton?

A wicked lot of Blood diamonds?

His dead dog’s ashes?

A lock of Katie Holmes’ hair bought on EBay from a gay hairdresser – sorry, stylist – in West Hollywood?

Not even close.

Included in the lock box:

One gram of marijuana

Eighty two dollars

One warrantee card for Fender Stratocaster, never filled out or sent in, rendered useless

Smart kid, huh? Maybe someone should tell him about them holes in his pants called pockets, which are designed to store personal items such as tiny bags of smokable delights, a few small bills and worthless pieces of paper.

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