Revenge of the Frosting . . . and Pebbles

Surgeon General's Warning: This is a post about a group of 4 cub-scout-minded adults and reading this might be hazardous to your opinion of all of those living in apartment 24.

So, ok, now that you've read that . . .

About a week ago, a bunch of girls came and slammed frosting in my and my roomate's face. We swore and made a secret pact that all of them were going down. Big time. Two words, Cheez Wiz. Anway, later that night I walked outside and found this on my doormat:

In case you can't tell, yeah, that's a rotten orange with smiley face . . . .and one eyeball.

There was a note, "Hi, my name is Skipper. I want to be ur friend. Please take care of me by giving me cookies, or I will smush u w/ frosting--chocolate flavored."

We don't really respond well to threats.

Anway, last night, we wrote back. And sent Pebbles. This is Pebbles:

We also sent a voodoo marshmallow man with matches and a note.

"Hi, my name is Pebbles. I don't negotiate with terrorists. Squeaky here found out the hard way. Muah hahahaha!" Anway, we lit the matches in the marshmallow man on fire and put him on the girl's apt doormat, knocked and ran.

It took a couple of tries, but it finally worked.

I think it kind of freaked them out. We were very pleased.

And I hope my mom never reads this because she'll think i'm crazy. And really mature.