It was a normal day in the small town I was in, that is at least until Yankee came along.  I was walking down the street in my red New York hat when I saw what looked like some goddam Indian coming from the distance.  And let me tell ya, they don’t have any of ‘em in this town so it was quite some sight that’s for sure.  Everyone turned and stared at him but he just kept acting like nothing was wrong.  He had some weird feather sticking out of his hat!  He had to be a real moron to wear that around.  I mean what was he thinking?  As if that silly feather weren’t enough, he was riding on a little pony that was nearly half his goddam size for Chrissake.  Boy how I would have hated to be that pony. 

Well anyway once he got close he told me his name was Yankee Doodle.  I nearly started laughing at the top of my lungs but I held it in just so I wouldn’t make him feel bad.  Then he called the feather on his head “macaroni” and that made me blow up.  I couldn’t help it that time.  I couldn’t believe he would call it that.  He killed me that kid with his name, feather, pony, and all.