Jake Freddrickson held up the line at the nearby Citgo, so I followed the fucked home and help up a baseball bat over his head. The stick legged mulefaced fucknugget didn't have any shit worth stealing in his house, so I threw a bunch of folding tables at him and then fell out his bedroom window because I swear to god the gravity in that room was all fucked up and maybe it was the humidity or something, but I couldn't see straight and I swore I thought his window was a big fucking plate of BBQ chicken and canned peaches. AND NO, I wasn't seeing that shit because I had been drinking my specialty home-brewed Yablonski Reserve beer I've been making lately. I've been boiling up my own beer these days because the cops said I should get a hobby or else I'll keep ending up in the C Cell like I do every other goddamn day of my life, so I started my own microbrewery. I don't need no sissy books to tell me what equipment and shit I need to make beer, so I've been putting yeast and carbonated water and pure alcohol into my bathtub and then dropping a car battery into it for an hour or so. It's really good shit, although it makes your eyes turn blue and you can't feel anything below your neck after one drink, which is a testament to my brewery skill.

West Appleton soccer moms love squeezing out babies in front of amused audiences. I wasn't amused, so I stapled a note to the kid's head that said "YOUR MOM'S A WHORE" and shoved him back into her gaping hole.

I was chasing known goblin king Larry "The Flying Chin" Hobbes down a hallway with a rake when I saw this ugly, pasty faced hippie wannabe. I taped her to the wall so I could deal with her later. That was a few months ago. I kind of forgot about her bulbous mug while I was beating Larry into submission with a piece of aluminum siding that I stole from Home Depot after they failed to give it to me for free because I'm a goddamn war veteran and a senor citizen and I deserve it for free.

Sissyfights can break up even the most stable relationships. I took this photo while I was posing as a family therapist, advising the O' Malley couple to resolve their differences and issues by pussy slapping each other. Then I took off the wig and they said "Oh no, you're not really a family therapist, you're Cliff Yablonski!" but I didn't bother responding because at that point they were already on fire and really dead.

Gordon Yates and his son Lemmy pose for this endearing photo. Let's hope his kid doesn't develop the repulsive drooling problem his load-bearing dad has.

I was watching some show on some channel on somebody's TV and it was about foreign people in England or the U.K. Land or Irishland or somewhere. Anyway, the guy on the TV kept saying he was going to "go to the store to pick up a pack of fags" and I would always say "WHY BOTHER, THEY'RE ALL OVER THE GODDAMN TOWN HERE." I guess this is a picture of some fucking foreign town or something I suppose, because this is a higher quality pack of fags than you see on the streets around here.