Heathcliff's bookie had his eyes popped from their sockets via some off-panel show of force. Heathcliff's reaction isn't to the bookie sprinting away from the dentist's office with his eyes in his hands, but that his dentist thinks that the bookie's eyes are teeth. Heathcliff is in for a long day of public torture.

Heathcliff bet Spike that he could do one better than those strippers in Tijuana. Ping pong ball trick? So 2000-and-late.

Heathcliff fucks everything that moves.

The force of Heathcliff's snoring is such that it alters the physics of golf balls.

It turns out that the conservatives are right: The recent surge of gay marriage legislation has hurtled at least one boy down the slippery slope that leads from bestiality being a one time only Google search to an unfortunate, horrifying obsession. "Wrong pipe" indeed, Iggy Nutmeg.

While a good idea in theory, Heathcliff's sardine hatchery did not go over well with Mrs. Nutmeg.

Twitter: It doesn't work like that.

Heathcliff's girlfriend's owner was just telling his mannequin that he likes Heathcliff's meat.