Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Yet another penalty box poem, only Heathcliff appears to have done something so foul as to warrant a three minute penalty (?) and Knicks tickets (!). A bad strip salvaged by a somewhat funny joke? Why not...I'm feeling generous.

Honestly, Pete? I've got books to read and stories to write, man. Stop wasting my time. You know what I want. You have until Sunday to please me, or I'll threaten to come through on all the other threats I've made on your life thus far.

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