By James
I was trying to enjoy my delicious cranberry sauce when I heard the news that my dear friend, Danny Devito died. I fell to the ground, sobbing, but then I decided to call him directly and he picked right up. This was a death hoax, most likely perpetrated by some soy boy, cellar dweller, jobless scum that gets his jollies in his mommy’s basement at the expense of great men like Devito.
Devito was eager to make a statement and had the following to say:
“James, I feel so screwed here. They think that they can talk shit because they’re taller than me? Freaking soy boys need to learn that I can throw down. Remember what I did to Batman in 1992? I kicked his bat ass. They really need to get on their knees and romance these stones because I’m steaming mad! What if my family saw that headline? What if I saw that headline and thought the Mandela effect happened to me and it fucked with my head? My god, what a terrible thing. James, please put this scum on blast for me. I’m far too busy preparing for MAN ON THE MOON 2. You heard it here first!”
You got it Danny!
(Comments may not be those of Danny Devito)
