So anyways I was in the grocery store buying pounds of brutally murdered meat, which is my favorite because somehow it seems that meat which has lots of fear in it tastes the best. I looked to my left, which I do frequently in order to keep my neck stretched out in case an emergency comes up where I am forced to look left a lot, and there standing next to the Hippie Hotdogs was, of course, a Hippie. They are the only ones who will get near Hippie Hotdogs, because Hippie Hotdogs are made of recycled cardboard, flowers, and body odor.
I walked up to this hippie and slapped him and said "Why so hippie??" And he said, "Hey man, dude, you're wrecking my groove thing man. Peace." So I punched him in the belly button and said "Peace this Charlie Manson!" And he coughed out some marijuana smoke and died.
I was charged with 2nd degree murder that day, but I'll always remember it as the time I tried Hippie Hotdogs, and they actually weren't too bad.
This has been a Phoolish Report.
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