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Guhhhh noooobity fahhhh foooogity!!!

Squabbled about on March 20, 2005.

Grårp didn’t intentionally kill himself, I heard, while sitting in my bomb shelter counting the seconds until the pincer monkeys would come for me. My mediocre brother was killed by the very man who had been my neighbor for two months, the man who had told me about the Englebee Trooble who chatted about Alyssa Milano’s feet—Samuel Dreckers!

(Poor Mr. Wilson!)

It’s only 99¢ to call me tonight and ask me more about this! (Ask me about the inflatable hotdogs and now-dead screaming stars too, please!) The evil Mister Dreckers apparently caught my brother Grårp watching the FOX network with his checkerboard and copy of the Pravda newspaper. Dreckers, who was a trained assassin, shot my brother, but then covered up the hole and hanged him, so it looked like a suicide! How evil!

I was, of course, on my way to Chechnya by this point, having escaped the pincer monkeys and having bought a nonrefundable cashew-peanut ticket on a cargo plane. I was flying over the Atlantic Ocean when I heard about Dreckers and Grårp. I shouted “Guhhhh noooobity fahhhh foooogity!!!” as I ran back and forth on the plane, exciting the crew until they restrained me under a box of canned piñatas.

I insisted I was not “on something” but to no avail! Foogity!!