Baseball Master

“If ya haven’t yet tried gen-u-ine Podunk Popsicle, I can sell ya one. Twenty-five cents a pop. Six flavors.”

Like, seven million months ago. Those good ol’ days. Yeaaah.

“Hey blondie! Tourist, or are ya jus’ here to see the aliens? ‘Cause, y’know, we do have ‘em. That’s entirely true.”

*Horrible twelve-year-old beatboxing*

pls thank

“Are we talkin’ ‘bout the same aliens? Y’know, the green ones? Jeeze, man, did ya talk to ‘em? They try to sell ya expired candy?” Ninten gagged. “Don’t accept anythin’ they try to give ya, free or not. That’s your first warnin’.”

“Welcome to Podunk. I hope ya like aliens. Y’do like aliens, right?”

“Signed baseballs for twenty-five cents. Signed by who? Who cares.”

pbthhh

“Y’know who eats trash? Ness. Ness eats trash.”