Hiding in Argentina

I am going to feel better after writing this-BP will decrease and I will dream of sugar plums. Also it is fun to be an out-of control-crackpot like the guy who writes a furious letter to the newspaper three times a week about aliens who are drinking his orange juice-straight from the carton no less!
I was out and about on an idyllic Sunday with my family and had to use a public rest room in a restaurant. The tp rolls weigh 50lb. and consist of super thin paper that turns to dust when you try and pull it off the cylinder. I had to lay down on my back sans pants and wiggle my arm up into the tp holder in an effort to turn the fifty pound roll and with the other hand try desperately to secure a few squares before the inevitable rip. My arm got stuck and I began screaming. A restaurant worker from Antarctica who spoke no English screamed and called 911 and the police. In a panic I tried to extricate my arm but the whole unit ripped out of the wall. I tried desperately to put my pants back on but it was impossible. I ran through the restaurant yelling "Help! Aliens are drinking my orange juice! and can you put my lunch in a to- go container." I tripped over my pants and knocked myself out. I woke up in a padded cell wearing a straight jacket and the tp contraption on my right arm. I took part in one group discussion with other patients, but we had to raise our hands if we wanted to speak. I did, but knocked my self out with the tp holder. Next time I will raise my left hand. Other than that the food is good and I have been making a few extra bucks selling extra tp to the other patients. I am not sure how often I am allowed to write letters. Now, I feel so much better-all the hostility has ebbed away. The birds are singing and they are bringing me a glass of orange juice.