Sunday, August 21, 2005

I can't help but think that certain members of my super group want to cook and eat me. The other night I came home to the headquarters after a long night of crimefighting, and I found that my mattress had been replaced with a grill. My shampoo bottle was also replaced with a bottle of A1. Every night I wake up and see Boscoe standing over me, breathing really hard, and wearing a chef hat. Since Americop put me in charge of the paychecks, I've been paying the League with popcorn chicken. You'd think they'd be able to eat that, but they want beef. Why must I be so delicious?

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