PICKLEBALL OF DEATH
Eye-yi-yi.
Eye-yi-yi.
It’s okay, snowflake, we got you.
That’s Smucked up.
Someone fat-fingered the scoreboard controller.
Skibidi.
L…o..o..k… o…u…t… t…h..e… g…a…t…e… i…s… c…l…o…s…i..n…g…
It’s about time.
And it was clearly gruel day in the prison cafeteria.
This year’s kale.
The unkindest cut of all.