THE ABRIDGED VERSION OF THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF JAJA BEBE, PART IV: THE FOURTH PART (1945-1960)

With the war over, I returned home, delighted with my new drug smuggling team. Now in the Smugglish Team, there were over 200 people, including Norse Callsworthy, Hicks Sofa, Peregrin Jack, and, of course, my good friend Angus. Of course, some people in the Smugglish Team were less trustworthy, such as Ploorg Farshnuur, my arch-rival during the late 40's. So I decided to establish a set of rules. These rules included:

1. 25 push-ups for disobeying an order
2. 45 push-ups for not disobeying an order
3. 30 sit-ups for suggesting what kind of necktie I could wear
4. Being locked in the hole for 3 days for saying that it's a cold day outside when it was more than 55 degrees
5. Giving up a baby tooth for not saying "I'm hungry" after you finished a meal.

These rules got almost everyone to obey, but not Ploorg Farshuur, my arch-rival. Ploorg, or "Plo'oorg" as I liked to call him, had an idea of overthrowing me. As the years passed, he became a steadily worse problem. In 1952, I decided to go to a last resort - the Galapigos Islands. There, I spent almost almost a year, languishing in the cold, stormy beaches, having a wonderfully miserable time, until in early 1953, I decided I would face the heat and sun of the real world. When I returned, I saw that Ploorg had completely taken over the Smugglish Team. Worse, he insisted on recording everything the drug smugglers did, and his stubbornness and his many spelling errors reaked through the air. In desperation, I challenged Ploorg to a duel.

The rules for the duel were simple. The duel was to be held on May 24, 1953, on a pile of junk five feet wide and 23 inches tall, in Cambridge, England, and it was to be called "the Cool Duel". Ploorg and I would face each other, turn our backs, take three steps, face each other again, take three steps toward each other, and begin telling each other about our life's story, our secret ambitions, and our least favorite volleyball team. Me and Ploorg soon were engaged in a very philosophical and insightful monologue about our life's story, our secret ambitions, and our least favorite volleyball team, and soon we got so into it, that we started talking about our parents as well. We forgot about the actual duel, but it doesn't really matter, because Ploorg got so into monologuing that he left the Smugglish team and made boring speeches for the rest of his life. With Ploorg gone, I became the leader of the Smugglish Team once again.

Meanwhile, the Smugglish Team was going wonderfully. The Smugglish Team had become trinational, with connections in England and France. In 1955, Germany joined, followed by Spain in 1957. And some of the drug smugglers were starting to have kids. Norse Callsworthy had Beige Callsworthy in 1951, Hicks sofa had Stark Sofa in 1953, and Peregrin Jack had Arms Jack in 1954. In 1956, a person named Dip Nørshåd asked to join the drug smugglers. He already had a four-year-old son named Eip Nørshåd. He joined as the official safe-cracker. And in 1958, Kieth Schärgzdenwærfer, the father of Smith Schärgzdenwærfer, joined as the official kieth.

However, in 1960, an event happened that changed my whole life. It was a dark and stormy night, and it was raining hard, so I decided to back to my house and maybe have a few joints. But then, when I was walking down the street, a herd of yaks chased me. These yaks were extraverts, meaning that they had less than fifty-seven eyes. The yaks cornered me in a dark alleyway, and then mugged me. Then they held me for ransom for 50 million dollars. I angrily paid that amount myself, muttering about how I was down to $59,950,000,000. So I decided that for the rest of my life, I would write about how yaks are all communists. Foghorn is just one of my current ways of doing that. Another is going down to a random street in Boston and signing. So when I decided to fulfill this great ambition, I realized that I would need a lot of time - so much time that I would have to give up drug smuggling. I hurriedly resigning, explaining my plight, amid groans and shrieks of delight.