Brother ordred pizza. I’m hungry. Bite into it like it’s the first meal I’ve had in the past week and it’s. really bad. Ask him why, as is a good course of action. It’s ‘The Walter’.
Walter tastes. Like cigarette butt personified. Like food stain on deadbeat dad’s wifebeater. Hell hath no fury like The Walter on my tastebuds on a lonely Thursday night. Whoever Walter is, fire him, and send him to my house where I’ll make him “The Woman Scorned” and he will pray he learns how to absolve himself of his sins.

















