I brushed dandruff off my shoulder, then tried scrubbing my scalp with my nails, but my nails were too short.  So I used a backscratcher and watched the pale flakes cascade down.  Dandruff was what I had in my favor, and I knew I could sell it.  The secret was a good harvest (without damage to my scalp).  I found a margarine tub and brushed the flakes into it, then scratched my head again and ruffled my hair.  It was a very small amount, so I assumed a single flake might be worth a lot.  God Bless dandruff shampoo.
       This made me happy: it was the first time I felt in control of my fate.  Excited, I took the margarine tub to the attic and waited all night, but nobody came.  When dawn broke, I was disappointed.  But it was Saturday, so I would have all day to sleep.  I went down to my room.  As I lay my head on the pillow, I wondered if dandruff would have to be preserved.  Did it spoil?
        A month went by with no luck, but my dandruff inventory increased: lots of flakes, but not much volume.  But that might be good:  fewer goods equal more value.  I was no economist, but it sounded right.  Anyway, It would've been silly for me to be an economist since I despised money.  I
had told a Christian friend that money is the root of all evil.  He said the "love" of money was the root of all evil.
        So I went around repeating "his" line for a couple days before realizing I disagreed with it.  Money was evil (!), pure and simple.  Yet poverty was hard.
        As an anti-dandruff commercial came on TV, I delivered a wet and splattering raspberry.  "I'll show you!" I muttered forcefully.  "Today dandruff, tomorrow B.O.!"
        When they finally abducted me from my attic, I was really afraid they wouldn't like my dandruff.  They gathered into a circle and looked into my tiny margarine tub with their large, almond-shaped black eyes.  One pointed while talking to the others, his finger twirling around in the air like a hungry buzzard, the tip covered with old yellow pieces of human fingernails that had been clipped off me during moonless nights.  That was another of my contributions.
         Eventually, one dabbed a nail-covered finger into the flakes and touched it to his bulbous, gray, hairless scalp.
         He looked at the others and the flesh around their eyes dilated as it had when I'd brought them the fingernails.  I then knew I would be rewarded but good.
         Before long, they all wore the dandruff and I never saw so much dilated eye flesh in all my life.  What a relief: Suspension of my medical exams! I could rest in peace for another two years.  I could also forget about the problems of dandruff and clipping fingernails.  The anti bourgeois that I am, I was glad to see manufacturers lose money on dandruff shampoo (not that I constituted a very large part of their income).
          My medical exams used to occur at least once a month, and they were very painful and frightening.  But thanks to a little Yankee ingenuity, the examinations have stopped, long-since replaced with occassional harvests and bi-annual visits where I offered them new ideas for their fashion statement.
           To keep up my good fortune, I've been developing other product ideas.  B.O. was a desperate plan that I didn't hold much hope for, but the crust that forms on my eyelashes when
I sleep, as well as toenails, ear wax, and belly-button lint make me very excited.  And I'm tired of picking my nose.
           Together, they spell F.N.D.B.O.E.C.T.N.E.W.B.B.L.B., which must mean "good luck," since I think it's how the alien captain's name is pronounced.