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.
it's hard to shake the feeling that I've always got five stars in this Grand Theft Auto known as life.
Now, inexplicably, season three is looming over us like some sort of dome. Season one's plot asked whether or not the town could get out from under the dome. Apparently the answer was "no". Season two asked "I guess we're really stuck, huh?" and the answer was "yup".
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