I'm drippy, Jack!
Now, I like a good creamed ice as much as the next bastard, but let me tell you, Jack, the salted hip flask flavor is the best damn ice cream flavor this side of Nebraska.
Me and the boys used to give ol' Cindy Welcher down on east street a nice cream bun filled with hip flask and it made all the other girls jealous. Anyway, I'm an ice cream.
:no-dogs-no-masters:
look at that handsome bastard? i did that, dad. i always looked up to you. i always tried to defend you from the secret service goons, they're mean people, i could smell that from a mile away when we moved to washington. so i bit them. why is that a bad thing? they do worse than just biting people a bit, you know that. did you thank me for my watchfulness, dad? did you reward me for being a good dog and looking out for you? no. you sent Champ to the rat man and he never returned. you sent me back to Delaware and replaced me with a cat. after all i did for you. how could you? how could you do this to me? i cry to the moon every night, calling out for you, but you never answer my calls. i'm all alone here and you never respond.
