Have You Seen My Bankruptcy Papers?

Where are my bankruptcy papers? Come on, the fun's over har har. OK Hehe. I get it: you hide my bankruptcy papers, I freak out, bite my maid, call Dr. Willstein again and ask for an injection of Zebra hormones to chill my nerves. We've been there before, and I'll admit, it's funny.

I know I lose my temper sometimes, but it's in good fun. I laugh when I think about the time I lost my tip calculator and punched my wife in the face because she said we could just figure it out longhand. Ok that stuff is ripe for parody, but this is serious, I really need my bankruptcy papers.

So you don't have them? Sure. I bet. You don’t have them like when you said you didn't have my insulin, and I had to bite the ring finger of a cotton candy vendor just to get my requisite sugar intake. What was her name again? Oh yeah, it was a he. Dounkel. He smelled like dead cats.

Yeah that was funny too, but please, can you just tell me where my bankruptcy papers are? Oh, you don't have them? Oh you had them but forgot where you put them? Hey, you know what I forgot? I forgot that when you break a beer bottle over a man's head, it bleeds. I just forgot.

Yeah, I remember when Mitch dubbed a Blues Traveler concert and got John Popper on tape saying that cheese is better than most governments. That was his pre-obesity though. Yeah I heard he lost weight. That was funny.

Hey. Come on. Sweet sonofabotch, can I just please have bankruptcy papers? The bank's calling in twenty minutes. Please. My marriage is riding on this. Haha, my wife has been doing a lot of riding of her own lately? Haha, funny. You're kidding right, you're joking. Haha good one. What? Hey. Come on. I hate you.