The way Little Miss Perfect tells it, you'd think I was head of a gang of street thugs when I was a kid. We weren't thugs, we were twelve. All we wanted was some prize money, or at least a bit of pie.   First of all, the garden hose wasn't my idea. Yeah, it came from our yard. Kyle grabbed it and slung it over his handlebars before we headed downtown. He was a little klepto, even then: I know for a fact he had duct tape, two jackknives, and a Playboy he lifted from Drago's in his backpack that day.   It was Father's Day, 1985, and the Crust'N'Crumb Bakery was holding its first annual blu