From the hermaphrodite snake that lives in my refrigerator. He’s also a Buddhist homosexual. Sometimes I tune into his cerebral wavelength using my transistor rotary chicken that plugs into the toaster. He’s usually pretty good about exporting his musical ideas. His name is Jared, he wishes you a happy wedding. He can’t attend, because he never leaves the fridge. He doesn’t let me hit the bottle, at least if it’s in that fridge. Don’t tell him I have another. He doesn’t know.