Figs!
If withholding figs
Prepare for vicious beating
Pink dolphins be damned
Figs are coming people! They are almost here, my favorite fruit on the face of the planet. If I thought you were withholding said delicious fruit from me, and would not share even one, I would punch you in the xiphoid process until you had to go to the emergency room, then I would take the figs for myself. I don't care if you are only five years old, or eighty-three, give me the figs unless you want me to whip you with a Hot Wheels track. If you are a pink dolphin or some endangered monkey species, I do not care, I will hit you with quarters inside a sock until you give me the figs. If you have some sort of disease where you can only digest figs, you better pay the piper the best ten so I'll leave you alone. What is the moral of this story? That's right. Give. Me. The. Figs.
Oh dear! I had best have my best ten figs on me at all times. And have a dictionary to handy so I can quickly look up xiphoid to learn what part of my anatomy I am about to be struck in. I believe if I pay a 25% tax to you on my figs I will be safe. Better make it %50.
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