What, a Guy Can’t Wear His Burglar Costume to the Art Museum?
What’s next, requiring me to carry a regular wallet instead of my trusty burlap sack with a dollar sign on it?
What’s next, requiring me to carry a regular wallet instead of my trusty burlap sack with a dollar sign on it?
This was the first time I felt like I was witnessing something I shouldn't be seeing.
And if you don’t, let’s just say we have ways to make you like the way you look. I fucking guarantee it.
I’m not blaming. I erred as much as anyone, and forgetting my gun at home probably should have been enough to reschedule the whole heist in the first place.
Somewhere we don’t have to think about all these people staring at us and deciding whether I’m “guilty” or “innocent.”
Was it like that at the hideout and in the getaway car coming here, and no one told him? Oof. No one must like this guy.
I have a hunch: The killer might just need some space right now.
If you are calling from inside a vehicle sinking into a body of water, press 9, and a transcript of your final words will be faxed to an address you provide.
You all did see my resume, right? I double majored in Philosophy and Theater at Fordham.
One photo of Jalen Hurts missing a three-foot putt on the practice green or Lane Johnson’s AOL screen name from 2007 can be enough to set you up for months.
I used to be the most talked-about piece of art in this museum. Now I'm not smiling anymore.
Won't acknowledge his rum addiction.