And I see a spray-can of starch in yours. How dare your robe and hat be so...wavy. After that, I will beat you with the can until you are dead, and grasp the can firmly into the air, screaming a war cry of awesomeness before flipping off the moon.
This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.