You Now Get to Affectionately Refer to Your Home as “The Wolf’s Den.” Suddenly, the way the renovation turned out doesn’t seem so bad.
The producers were convinced that my boyfriend Todd was the actual killer. Have you seen Todd? My little baby cousin is stronger than him.
Steve slams his fist on the table in the interrogation room. “Talk to me!” he screams. Slippery Soap flinches.
We had a few incidents in which some misused their legally acquired, weaponized smallpox strains, but that's a small price to pay for freedom.
“My moon is in Sagittarius, so I shut down emotionally to cope with stress! I told you that on Christmas after I punched that mall Santa!”
Before writing me off as some vengeful psycho, consider that this little dog thought it was funny to lick Lucy’s face without her consent.
Sell and then shake 'em down for dirt on their dealer. There's only room for one dirty cop and one dirty Girl Scout troop in this neighborhood.
As you point at Michael, his eyes won't stray from yours, but everyone on that jury will take note of the way you're dressed.
Between all the traveling and assassinating, it can be hard to focus on yourself as a hitman. What to do with yourself in retirement?
Bureaucrats will waste zero time before pointing fingers and disrespecting the men, women, and children I'm about to systematically mow down.
This Mueller character, looking into "collusion," he's the worst of the bunch. Many sources have told me he's a draft dodger and sexual predator.
Cotton Eye Joe killed my fiancé, and I tried to warn you about him by weaving the truth of his existence into the lyrics of a popular dance song.