Grown-up: Good job kids. No one will be beaten today.
She really got the crowd going with a drumbeat version of Funky Cold Medina.
"I fucking hate peacocks. I'm going to kill that grandson of mine."
This man spun a festive shield on his finger like a basketball. Because if he didn't, who would.
The king and his horse never did find that grail. They did find a mighty good pint of lager over at Madison's though. Only 8 pence!
"Yes, I do often grow fabric out of my upper lip. No, you can't touch it."
This woman's costume was covered with exploding caps. Every costume and piece of apparel that she ever made was similarly adorned. It was her way of taunting god to strike her down with lightning. So far, so good.
"Enchilada!"
"Enchilada? That's not what we rehearsed."
Blonde: Wait wait..I think I just had one of those... episiotomies. We should totally walk in the parade later!
Brunette: Honey, we're in it right now.
Blonde: Huh. Wow, it's like I'm living in the future!
Love notes written on another inmates removed buttcheeks is....totally romantic!
Scarier than the eye of this beast is the story behind the bloody fingerprints on it's retina.
Señor Fox, on the prowl for a henhouse or two.
Unbeknownst to these little girls, the blue strings they now paraded about were actually the lower intestines of Elmo.
