The Belly Punker was doing his Belly Punker Dance in the wilds of North Carolina. His chant echoed through the forest:
Je. Suis. Un artiste.
Tres. Sexy to say the least.
Like some primal hairy... Hnughmf!
A sharp pain hits him in his derriere. He looks down to see a small dart protruding from said region. Pulling it out, he reads it. "10ccs of TheMan serum... ungh." He passes out.
It is now 9AM sharp, and Belly Punker is ready for another day at TheMan inc. He pats his breast pocket to make sure his lucky pencils are still there. He doesn't remember why he keeps a couple of dirty pencils around, but they reassure him all the same.
Help the Belly Punker pay for his coffee here.
Previous Belly Punkers here, here, and here.