I was driving my feathered buggy - a vehicle that would easily eclipse the spectacle projected by any batmobile - through the streets of Namana (not to be confused with a city with a similar name) when someone threw a bar of chocolate, spiked with actual spikes, and punctured the three lonely wheels of my chicky-mobile.To my rescue came B.B., son of a Mr. MATTOO.
This was the first time in which I felt utter.... capriccioso. I also thought that his name was very becoming for a crayon parrot and agreed to date him when he finally asked me out three weeks later (just as I was ready to give up on waiting for him to ask).
