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Ask Bob!
Day-yo...Daaaaya-ya-ya - yo. Daylight comin' an' I wan' go home... - Harry Belefonte - I'm so glad I didn't have to go to Juvenile-Court! Since I'm only about four feet tall, Mr-law-man must've thought I was just a kid. And I do look young for my age even though I was born in 1908. It all started when I decided to save a little money on Thanksgiving by stealing a turkey and some cranberry sauce. First, I put on some thermal-underwear because they stretch real good around the waist. Then, I go to the store and stuff a nice big turkey under my shirt, and stretch the waist of them thermal leggings around the turkey to hold it in nice and good. Next I grab some cranberry sauce and put it in my coat pocket. Just then, some security guy saw me steal the cranberries and he "takes me upstairs," where I'm interrogated by the Homeland Security, Nazi's, and Republicans. They really wanted to know why I stole the cranberries! I didn't know what to say, so I muttered, "...jjjjust doin' it for JJJJJJerry's kids. You know...for the kids." I didn't know what I was talking about I was too a-scarred. They didn't notice the turkey, but one of the security guards noticed my plump belly and commented how Play stations, garage door openers, and leaf blowers are making today's youth too fat. I stuck to my story. I kept my head tilted and starred and a focal point on the wall (a tear in the wallpaper), and kept muttering, "For Jerry's kids...For Jerry's kids." Then they tried to get me to confess to every crime committed in the US that hasn't been solved. From the JFK shooting to the stolen high school mascot stolen in 1902, they left no stone unturned. I just kept muttering, "For Jerry's kids...For Jerry's kids." After about ten hours they decided to take me downtown. As I was walking down the stairs, I noticed that the turkey didn't seem as cold as it was before. It was starting to thaw. I guess I must've stuffed it in my underwear "neck down," 'cause bloody-turkey juice started dibbling down my leg as I was escorted downstairs to a waiting police car that was to take me to juvenile-court. When I got downstairs, I was surprised to see Jerome with a microphone in his hand, surrounded by sound technicians, camera-men, and what-not. I didn't know he had become a TV reporter, but there he was! He was talking "live" about some sort of food drive that was taking place at the store. I knew this was my only opportunity...I held my blood soaked pant-leg out and screamed, "They did horrible things to me! HORRIBLE THINGS...SOMEONE HELP!!! HORRIBLE THINGS!!!" I felt the half frozen turkey neck starting to slide down my leg." Jerome looked in my direction and headed toward me with the camera's and a small crowd following. "They put things in me....HORRIBLE THINGS!!!" I shook my leg and the crowd gasped in horror as the turkey neck slid out my bloody pant leg. The bystanders and technical people were really crowding the policeman, so I screamed as loud as I could, "LIVER PATTIES!" At this, Jerome started screaming and swinging his arms around wildly. The crowd started running in all directions, in fear of the lunatic. Jerome knocked over a camera man who hit my arm with the camera. My arm broke and I kicked a technician who then fell into a display of canned peas. Cans flew into the air and one of them came right down on Jerome's hand with the microphone. The microphone fell and someone in the crowd kicked it, which caused it to slide into a snow shovel that was on display. The shovel fell right onto a rack with low cost wool sweaters. One of the sweaters fell on the policeman's head. Then a guy who was running toward the exit to catch a cab, hit the policeman who proceeded to fall down and crack his head. At this point, I took to running away with the turkey between my legs and a can of cranberries in my pocket! And now you know!
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