Inspired by this post by Ethan Ryan on McSweeney's.
Judge Doom framed him.
He's a private investigator.
Yes, they shoot horses to put them out of their misery.
I heard they shot Mrs. Morgan to put her out of her misery.
He art in 1937 rural Mississippi during the Great Depression.
The same people who created them. And big oil.
Not much. It was more about survival than love.
Bob's not invited. He's nuts.
Only if you have a condom.
No, not yet. Stop asking.
Probably the stress of caring for his obese mother and developmentally slow brother.
Behind that mail truck, dude.
She grew up, became an alcoholic, and got served her pet bird for lunch.
The same people who are afraid of living life without delusions.
Whither I go, thou canst not follow me now, but thou shalt follow me afterwards.
I drank wine with the Italians, son.
Only if it's a slow song.
A sequel could happen.
Doing it doesn't affect your eyesight.
Because they are fools, of course.