"Goddamnit! Not on the…not on the floor! Bad girl! No more heiniken!"
Oh my god! That woman is shitting an arm!
"Check it out fella! Here’s what boobs don’t look like!
The special needs class played old timey western doctors. It was all fine and dandy until Mortimer realized he’d forgotten the leaches…somehow, they’d have to improvise. If they did well, there would be shiny gold star waiting for them at the end of class.
"Uh…that person and/or persons look broken—not emotionally, or as an expression of their art. Just broken—like severe compound fractures, crushed sternums and the like. It just…it’s just a big ole pike of fucked up.
It’s the visage of some crazy reptile/alien creature from beyond the moon! The disguise themselves as nipples to lull us into a false sense of security and normalcy. But soon, dear friends, soon…they will strike!
"This may not be the best time to tell you but in these boxes, is where I keep the corpses of my previous secretaries. Hope you like bone saws."