Ok. I never touched her Fallopian tubes. That’s right. And I never sang to her hamster. Oh wow, and I definitely did not steal her stamps! Why would I? I can mail things for free at my job. Doesn’t make sense. No. I most certainly never told her sickly grandmother about her tattoos. Oh, stop! First of all. I didn’t even know she had a grandmother, let alone one who’s all sick. Oh really? That’s too bad, poor thing.
Wait, what? You heard my fingerprints were on the scene? Who told you that? Oh, a source. Wait wait, hold on. Exactly what scene are we talking about and who’s dusting for fingerprints? Tyrone? Tyrone who? Tyrone Fletcher? He’s a WHAT? Ok. If Tyrone Fletcher’s a private eye, I can make milkshakes with my ass. I’m sure he did take a class online. I bet he does have a certificate hanging above his stove. That doesn’t change the fact that he used to lose his thumbs in fourth grade. You got it. We’d all be practicing cursive or whatever and he’d start hysterically crying out of nowhere, and the teacher knew by now what it was, “They’re on your hands Tyrone!” But he still didn’t get it, he’s looking all around. “Look at your hands Tyrone! Your thumbs are attached to your hands!” Oh sure, I don’t doubt he’s made major strides since then. Because people change. They most certainly do.
Look, get the hell off my lawn, ok? And if Miss So-and-So wants to come see me in person, she better bring her lawyer next time. Oh, Tyrone Fletcher’s her lawyer now too? Took another online course? That’s perfect. I’ll tell you what. Just give Miss So-and-So a little message for me, ok? Just tell her: I never loved her. That’s right. All those times I said it to her. Nope. I didn’t mean it. Just said it for symmetrical value. Symmetrical. It means two halfs of equal sides. S-Y-M-M – ok just – hold on a sec, I’ll write it down for you. Let me just get a pen from the house. No you stay there. I’ll be right out.