The Devil made me do it. The Devil and the dog. The Devil, the dog, and Colonel Mustard in the dressing room. I got caught peeking and they blackmailed me. The Devil said, "If you don't steal that pie from Missus Pumpkin for us, we're going to...we're going to...We'll put a bomb in your shoe!"
Like I would fall for that! I'm not a fucking idiot. I haven't worn shoes since. Only boots and sneakers THANK YOU VERY MUCHO MR. ROBUTO.
So that's the way el cookie crumples, am I right friends? One day you're minding your own shitty business, peeping through all the secret rooms in a scary mansion, and the next day you're defending your actions in front of 40 Internet nazis such as yourselves (no offense.) but I just want to make this point extremely clear: I is not do what bad guy be. ME EQUALS ALWAYS NOT THAT.
Further more, moving forward, at the end of the day, when all is said and done, at this juncture, at this junction, not for nothing, you gotta ask yourself: "What is it exactly that I'm trying to say here?"
The answer may surprise you. It may even give you a reverse wedgie.
I know it did for me. ; )
C.C.B.P.Berry
P.S. I just want to give a shout out to my homies, The Mouse That Ran the Clock, John the Elder Jr., Don DeMafiarelli, and I can't forget my heart, my number one homie through thick and thin, Rufus Toothless. We'll miss you, girl.
