This bozo has no right to be called “Dad”. “Biodad” maybe…
August was always a killer. The last two weeks were like the ultimate Sunday evening depression…
Oh Fred. Don’t worry, Dear will come around and get you a new squeaky bone. He loves dog and kids after all!
I think I’m going to Cat-man-do!
help me! help me!
The Thompson Twins are moving?
Everybody must get stoned, Fred!
Nah that ain’t workin, lemme tell you, that gal ain’t dumb; maybe get a blister on your little finger, maybe get a blister on your thumb…