youPod, whoPod, allPod, whatPod, myPod

While commuting to the Loop on the Lakeshore bike path, Sarah didn’t even notice that the cycle goons pursued her. She was listening to a sacred-chant-rave-dance remix on her iPod. While she pedaled quickly, she also remained “vestal and vigilant” as her mother always advised. Her glance did not stray on muscular bikers. Her mind did not wander onto her favorite daydream topic: her emergence as a world-famous belly dancer. But she did allow herself the risky indulgence of listening to earphones while riding her mint green Bianchi Milano Cross-Terrain. She worked hard; felt she deserved it. Just as she was turning the curve near Oak Street beach, the goons caught up to her and snatched her iPod right out of her back pocket. They dragged her by the earphones all the way to the Capone Club, where all the high-end thugs hang out. Sarah protested. “I downloaded all those songs. I even had plastic surgery on my ears so that the earphones fit. Give back my iPod.” She stomped. “Not until you answer this riddle.” The goons threatened. “Okay,” said Sarah. “I love riddles.” The goon with the silver moustache asked, “Tell us your iPod’s personal, relative, indefinite, interrogative, and possessive parts of speech?” Sarah had no clue what these goons were asking; she couldn’t answer. “I’m telling you I don’t know that information! What do you want from me?” She cried while they tied her up.