Toxic Tub uses reinforced, steel-lined suspenders to keep that burlap bag up around his equator-sized waistline. I'm not going to even bother kicking the shit out of this porksack, as that would take all damn day and I'm sure as hell not going to throw my back out while beating my shovel against that ham pinata of a head.

In North Appleton, this is the closest thing we've got to a superhero. He doesn't have the ability to shoot out web from his hands, but some kind of white liquid does stream out of him on occasion. Don't ask.

After I broke into Nosechild's bathroom, I thought he was about to shoot himself in the head with a gun because my eyesight was screwing up again and everything looked blurry and I swear I saw Frank Sinatra's head on a lobster at the grocery store the previous week when I was supposed to go to that wedding that I wasn't invited to because they forgot to invite me. Anyway I busted into his bathroom and knocked that hairdryer out of his hand because there's no way this skinny ribbed shitmongrel is going to off himself before I have the chance to do it myself. I heard the wedding was a goddamn clown circus anyway, the bridesmaid looks like somebody tried to cram as many horseshoes as possible into her mouth.

Flabjaw and his Magic Trombone. This dough cretin gets half the parking lot reserved for his oozing fat ass.

Two scooters are put under an intensive stress test. The one on the right survived, but the last known whereabouts for the one on the left was somewhere near the Earth's core.

Slicky the Birdfaced Elf and her husband pose for the camera. Please note that the only creature who would dare touching that mutated Chihuahua's tit is dead. Also note that if you stare into that five dollar shirt she's wearing, you'll hallucinate and think her ribcage is made up of lemons or feathers, which it may be.