I kick you in the stomach, and as you puke your guts out, I lean over and whisper into your ear, "You can't handle the truth," as I point to my steel-toed boot, upon which the words "the truth" are printed.
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.