Mr. Sippee is the new owner of the Turtle House. Mac and I met him on Tuesday. There he was, sitting on the roof, waving to the swans. We went up, cause Mac had his own ladder. "Hi kids," says Mr. Sippee. Then he jumped off the roof. Down he fell. One storey. Two storeys. Three. Crash into a pile of broken marble.

Up gets Mr. Sippee. His head is cut in half and blood is dripping from his ears. But no matter. Out he pulls a needle and thread and gol durn but he sews his head right back up again. Looks darn good too.

Later, over French fries, Mac asks Mr. Sippee how come he didn't die.

"'Cause I'm immortal," says Mr. Sippee. "I was born in 1411. You believe that?"

"No," says I.

"Smart kid," says Mr. Sippee, ruffling my hair. "You're right. I was actually born in 1410."

To prove it, Mr. Sippee takes Mac and I in his green limo and we drive to Timbuctu, where he was born. Place is deserted. All the people have gone. Only person who lives there now is Mrs. FRIDYGUIDI, who runs the laudromat.

"See that." says Mr. Sippee, pointing to a rock.

"Yeah," says I.

"I was born there," he says. "It used to be a hospital. Now it's a magic rock. Go on. Pick it up."

So I pick up the rock.

"Now rub it against your crotch," he says.

I do. Feels kinda queer but I'm sorta scared of Mr. Sippee. So I do it.

"Now you're immortal," he says. "Go on and see if you are."

I looked behind me and there was a great big canyon. So I jumped into it. Down I fell. holy smokes it was deep. At the bottom my head splits open and I start to die. But just before I do, I hear Mr. Sippee laughing and saying: "Just kidding. The real secret to immortality is to drink V8."