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                                ON "NORTH APPLETON'S UNSOLVED MYSTERIES": Robert 
                                "Human Corpse" Stack investigates photos 
                                of the nefarious "Aura of Horrible Failure" 
                                surrounding innocent citizens of North Appleton 
                                and turning them into mobile bludgeoning targets. 
                                The newest victims include Hives Hands and The 
                                Bloated Tomato, both pictured here. I think that's 
                                Ronald McDonald's wife on the left. |  
                           
                            |  | Remember 
                                kids, always chain and lock up YOUR goth when 
                                you're done using him! What you would use these 
                                pathetic slambags for, I don't know, but it'd 
                                have to be pretty good. Like using their hollowed 
                                out skull to store your salad forks. I always 
                                chain my Goth to a back of a bus because buses 
                                are pretty easy to spot, especially when they're 
                                dragging somebody with enough white facepaint 
                                to draw a solid white line down the goddamn street. |  
                           
                            |  | CAKE 
                                PATROL: IN COLOR! |  
                           
                            |  | Marvin 
                                Thomas takes a seat in the "Big Boys" 
                                chair. I punted his tiny little bloated ass out 
                                onto the highway, where he was hit by a pickup 
                                truck carrying hay and watermelons. I fucking 
                                hate watermelons. I get those stupid black seeds 
                                stuck in between my teeth and then I have to use 
                                a goddamn icepick to get them out, and I haven't 
                                been able to find my icepick since the day the 
                                Henderson kids came over sometime late October, 
                                dressed up like imbeciles and demanding candy. 
                                What the fuck, do I LOOK like some flaming jackass 
                                who stores Mars bars in his place year round? 
                                I threw the icepick at their dad, and when the 
                                idiot kids were dragging his body away, I lobbed 
                                cans of peaches at their heads while cursing and 
                                falling down. I woke up the next day behind my 
                                house and my goddamn pants were gone which really 
                                fucking stinks because those were my lucky pants 
                                I wore the day the helicopter fell on Eddie Feinstine. |  
                           
                            |  |  
                                
 "RRRAAAAOOOOORRRRWWW!!! 
                                  Hey baby, calm down! Those other bitches didn't 
                                  mean anything to me, baby! You're the only one 
                                  in my life, I swear baby! ROOOOWWWWRWRRRR!" Dammit 
                                Uglycat, what the hell are you talking about, 
                                you goddamn crippled filthy carpet? 
                                
 "RRRAAAAOOOOORRRRWWW!!! 
                                  That's it, old man! I'm gonna cram my claws 
                                  down your 200 year old throat and manually remove 
                                  your testicles from the inside! ROOOOWWWWRWRRRR!" |  
                           
                            |  |  
                                While 
                                  the 38 nuclear power plants in South Appleton 
                                  pretty much insure that these puss-oozing jackbats 
                                  never build up a sperm count greater than their 
                                  shoe size, they still find other ways to put 
                                  more "pep" into their not-so-private 
                                  parts. I don't remember who the fuck this nappyhaired 
                                  candied cretin is, but I remember that kitchen 
                                  in the background. It took me 10 seconds to 
                                  tear out all their sink pipes and throw them 
                                  into Miller's Creek out back. I can't remember 
                                  what the hell they did to piss me off so much, 
                                  but you can assume it was pretty annoying, whatever 
                                  it was. I think their meaty kid took a picture 
                                  of me pissing in their well. |  |