I was sitting on the window of the World Trade Center, when I realized that I couln’t possibly be where I should, for the simple observation that my hair was slowly receeding. I slid up to the sidewalk while genteely pleading with my follicles not to go.
But it wouldn’t do, they were determined to quit.

I tried to hold my emotions in check, yet ended up shouting “YOU CAN ’T FIRE ME ! I QUIT !!” and with that que, my door mouse-sized dwarfish side kick appeared out of the nearest fire exit and garbed me in a purple cape;
then, knowing what that must mean, the small street urchins laying in the road croaked “To infinity, and beyon-”
But they never got as far as finishing, because the SWAT team arrived with a boat-load of one-eyed, one-horned, earth-bound purple Hazmat-eaters.

”’Ello, mate. So, eh, listen. It didn’t work out with Mrs Gorrilla (you did know she was a sheilla, right?) and she went to collage to become a hippie, so uh.. yeah, we figured the lab tubes would taste as good as vanilla bean. Help us?”