Heathcliff was tripping on Nog when the shit went sour, and he started having visions of sugarplums dancing through his head. If I were Heathcliff, and I saw dancing sugarplums, I'd probably enlist the services of a sad fucking shrink, too.



That's what a fucking sugarplum looks like. All I know is that when I'm waking up at five in the fucking morning for some doorbusters at Best Buy, I don't want any fucking California Raisin abomination smiling and dancing at me. Shitty fucking shrink (is he a post-holiday meme with Peter or something?) had better hook my boy up with some anti-depressants, or he's gonna get the claw.