Enough from the toad. None of you like him, anyway. I know this because there's just nothing likable about him. You aren't stupid. You know he's a steaming glob of tobacco spit blocking my path to happily ever after. You're secretly hoping I'll hit him with the table again just for you. And I just might!
In the meantime, I'd spied a dusty box of trash bags balanced precariously on a stack of unopened mail in the kitchen and instructed the disgusting Clapper Finstein to use them to cover the stained recliner in the living room. From there, I discovered the world of home renovation TV. Not only did it give me reasonable expectations for the cleanliness of my current residence, but those expectations also doubled as an easy-to-follow plan for torturing the house's owner.
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