mine's red.
hers is green.
meh.

[Click to view comic: 'go get a job']

Much like when I find myself in a small, dark and locked room burried under a shifting pile of fifty shaved and horny badgers dipped in baby oil...

...I don't know what's going on above me.

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Don't like it? Eat me.

I would like to own an entire fleet of snowcone trucks driven by fat, sweaty bastards who hate kids.

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Legend, oh legend, the third wheel legend...always in the way.

So you just want to run any given snowcone truck business there is, then?

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It was such a waste of everyone’s time and money that even the Tokyo stadium’s rape robots apologized– something they were programmed specifically never to do.