The radioactive spiders do not taste very good.
The sad reality is that he got the STD from a dumpster (don’t ask).
Capitalism leads to impulses that some would call… unnatural.
You can always just dip the napkins into a sauce. That’s how I fed myself through a couple of months of unemployment.
Barbecue sauce is merely a weak balm, honey mustard is stronger yet.
In case you were wondering, it was Hell… THE WHOLE TIME.
Every angle has been accounted for; thankfully they are all ninety degrees.
I’m mighty-tighty-whitey and I’m smuggling plums.
We’ve officially switched to a Tuesday-Thursday schedule here. Being hilarious all the time is exhausting.
Head trauma is the most intellectual of traumas.
Blu ain’t got no time for this.
Never trust the King of the Rats to make your food.
Everyone has that phase.
KILL THE PLANTS PUT THEM IN JARS YOU HAVE MADE MOTHER HAPPY
In the final episode the whole school is wiped out by a meteor.
┏┓ ┃┃╱╲ in ┃╱╱╲╲ this ╱╱╭╮╲╲house ▔▏┗┛▕▔ we ╱▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔╲ burn witches ╱╱┏┳┓╭╮┏┳┓ ╲╲ ▔▏┗┻┛┃┃┗┻┛▕▔
How else do you pitch it? Seriously, I need help.
It is a conversation that is happening all across America. It is a conversation we need to have.
“How about a good, old fashioned hand jive?!” Green shouts into the distance as Red has abandoned him. “I wonder what his issue was?” he asks, oblivious to the fact he is a douche.
Good friends are everything, they let you stay over, they feed you, and sometimes they feed you bullets.
Awww, our little Green is growing up.
“I mean, I did dabble in watercolors once.”
Turtles going all the way down.
We’re really scraping with this one.
Tapioca, to the tune of “Oklahoma.”