Good god, Ted... was that you that screamed a minute ago? I didn't mean to scare you, babe. I'm all better now. Did you hurt yourself? Hey — why is that bath water black? It's not water — it's root beer. When I first slid into it, the effervescent mixture of delight and agony was nearly unbearable.
Seriously, Karen. Don't you ever get the feeling that there's got to be more to life than the nonstop, hellish cruelty that you and I visit upon each other day after day? No. Outstanding. Seeing as how I just released a mayonnaise jar full of lice, fleas and deer ticks into your bedroom's open window. I just poured linseed oil into your gas tank. By god, I pity the poor souls who don't have a nemesis.
I like bein' out of town, but it's always way harder to fall asleep in a new bed. Especially when you've busted into a total stranger's apartment and ate a whole bag of coffee beans.
So, Doc... can you help me out or not? No, I can't, Ted, this issue is now outside of my legal sanction to practice medicine. Well, what do you suggest I do, then? I'll say it again: I'm not legally authorized to assist you in any way. But you were the one who wrote me a prescription for a medical mustache only three months ago. True. But now with the state 'stache law repealed, you'll have to go back to some sleazy street dealer for grooming wax.
If I could have only one magical wish, it would be to have cat's eyes — so's I could freak everybody out whenever they see me. BLOING!! Not only did I just waste a perfectly good wish... I need to find me a big box of poopin' sand pretty quick.
