>Lemme tell ya Fryman, it ain't been the same since you freaks left. I got dese new neighbors, like... they're like freakin' aardvarks or sumtin. I dunno what the hell dey are.
>There's sumtin' wrong wit dese aardvarks. When you assholes would do sumtin' terrible to me... I would, ya know, I'd bleed. Or I'd lose a limb. Or I'd, well, explode. It all made sense, in a certain gruesomely logical persuasion.
>But when dese freakin' aardvarks bug me it don't make no sense. Yesterday dey dropped an anvil on my head. A freakin' anvil, Fryman.
>"Wow Carl, that sounds..."
>Hold it, cuz I ain't done. Dat anvil flattened. I mean literally flattened me. I was all pancake-like. No broken bones, no blood, no nothin'. Just excruciating pain, and accordion noises whenever I tried to move, or call for help. It ain't natural. Sumtin's wrong wit' dese aardvarks. I'm, uh... I think I'm in danger.
