Great, a dog I can't hug.
Bears are like Jason: big lumbering forest retards who come in your tent and kill you. But Jason won't scatter garbage all over your camp afterward, because he has a touch of class.
If you're just gonna be a face on a rubber hose, you should at least try harder in the face department.
The beaver: symbol of industry and diligence, or nature's bucktoothed Sisyphus?
Maybe if you spent a little less time spazzing around and a little more time flying your wings wouldn't be such shitty little meatless rip-offs.
You got Robin Hood busted, you little shit.
Old people feed you because it makes them feel needed in a world that's left them behind. It's pretty touching until you realize bread costs money-- that's my inheritance you're eating, you quacking son of a bitch!
One time I was driving with a friend and he hit one of these cut-rate mooses dead on at fifty miles per hour, and it just trotted off like a scolded dog. No being should survive that.
Are you concerned that you may be a character trapped in a Tom Waits song? Be smart and learn the warning signs before it's too late. Also, it's too late. It has always been too late.
I'm haunted by a recurring vision of a skeleton flipping me off. To avoid seeing this terrifying image in bumper sticker form, I pay someone with a blank bumper to drive in front of me at all times.
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