The month of April had me feeling below ordinary, feeling like a hopeless no one. A man who had lost all his dignity and pride and feeling as hopeless as an awkward-looking Hooters' girl named Donna who puts an undisclosed amount of heron in her nose and agrees to take ten bucks from three high school seniors and allow them to put their penises in her butt.

I was beginning to think that I was doomed to this endless cycle of life. Same ol' super-sized shit served on a lukewarm platter, but served a little bit browner each day. And I felt below ordinary because I was drinking to excess and making stupid decisions. One day I poured a fifth of absolute in me and I looked in the mirror and realized that I needed a serious haircut, so I took my razor and took random chunks out of my hair. And the next morning the area on the back of m'neck was itchy and I noticed that I had grown bumps and pus-filled pimples the size of grape nuts.

And I was very self-conscious about the unusually large whitehead and pus filled pimples on the back of m'neck, especially when there are people behind me and they suddenly start laughing for no reason and I know deep down in m'heart those fuckers are laughing at the red and brown grape nuts on the back of m'neck.

My stupid Polish boss found 1001 ways to shout and make us feel as worthy as grape nuts because he treated my fellow inmates and I like we weren't worth a dog's smelly, parasite-infested vagina. It was then that I realized that I needed a reason to live, a reason to go on. I then saw "Spiderman" and the action film brought new meaning to my life.

I could relate to this Peter Parker character. We were both down on our luck and needed something extremely good to happen in our lives. Peter's luck changed for the better when he was bitten by a genetically altered spider--he became a superhero. I couldn't find any spiders, so I smeared my body in mustard, sugar and expired, meat-flavored spaghetti sauce and wallowed around the laundry room floor until the smell attracted the roaches and vermin from the inner cracks and holes in the wall.

After I let several roaches and termites bite m'carcas repeatedly, I was convinced that I would be blessed with superhuman strength and special powers. By day I would be known as the Frozen Food Master Tony, however by night, I would be known as the Nigerian Cockroachman!

I was the bomb. I designed this shit-brown suit for myself with the picture of a Nigerian cockroach on the front of it. I carried this yellow sticky substance in a jar that was my secret, superhero roach sticky glue which would stop my enemies in their tracks.

I was also resourceful like a real-live roach. When needed, I could shit out the processed food that had been wallowing around in my small intestines for 24 hours and I would use it to create super-duper "brown-balls" that I would fling at my enemies' faces when they attacked.

I was convinced that the Nigerian Cockroachman was the new hope and savior for the city of Philadelphia, and maybe even the world. I would be the superhero to bring Osama Bin Laden to justice, but first I had to start small.

It was a chilly, wet Thursday evening and I found myself taking a neighborhood walk and the light rain came down on my head and maneuvered its way around the grape nut-sized bumps and blemishes that formed on m'neck.

I walked past a 7-Eleven when I saw two thugs beating the old Pakistani owner with a vacuum cleaner hose. I didn't hesitate. Immediately I ducked into an alley and donned the shit brown costume and became the Nigerian Cockroachman!

Date of Photograph Unknown

"Let the sandnigger go!" I said with authority. They laughed at my costume and made fun because my balls were showing and then continued to beat and rob the sandy-looking towelhead senselessly. I decided to save him. I used the sticky glue on one of the men. He laughed senselessly, and just as I noticed he was missing four of his front teeth like this Dominican I guy I know, he hit me in the face with an old, black corrective shoe.

I was in pain and scared. As a final resort, I shit out the number two I had earlier and rolled the shit into "brownballs." The other thug was fast to react and he made me swallow and re-digest the brown balls. Then they kicked both our asses twice and took our money and identification.

When The Police arrived they laughed at the ridiculousness of the story and arrested me for trying to impersonate a superhero. In prison I'm in cellblock D and my celly/butt-lover is called Menosa. That's Madagascarian for guys who like rubber assholes.