Jennifer Yerling's cat. She called it "Perkins." I called it "Target Practice." I hate cats, especially the ones that chase away all the birds in my trees. Not that I like birds either, I'm just saying I hate cats more than I hate birds. And I hate you too. I don't know if I hate you more than cats or birds, but it's a pretty damn safe bet that I hate you a lot regardless.
Another exciting East Appleton game of "Duck, Duck, Freak." Everybody involved in the game automatically loses. There are never any winners in any Appleton City game.
A touching scene from the last Holiday Inn Hoe-down. The grand finale, which involved a light show (me shining a laser pointer into the retard's eyes to blind him) and a fantastic surprise ending (me tossing the scumball out the 6th story window) was heralded by fans and critics alike (the Police busted me again and made me sit in a jail cell with a crossdressing little bitch named "Clarise"). Was it worth it? I think so.
Goths or ravers? Goths or ravers? I don't know, but that thing with the red hair has a few tons of flesh trying to leak out from her clothing. I bet her body hates her for that. I know I do. I hate her more than birds and cats.
Blobby the Stuffed Monkey is molested by Blobby the Stuffed Human.
One of the wetsuit Appleton City cops who tried to swim around in the shitbag lake behind my house, reportedly looking for "evidence" so they could put me behind bars again. I busted up his little swim party by tossing down grenades I stole from the armory in the last world war. When he came up, I beat him in the gut with a big fucking piece of wood attached to a key that I stole from the Citgo gas station after I got fired from there. Don't ask what I got fired for. I hate that gas station now. Not like I didn't hate it before. Their manager is a pedophile and I've got proof.