-
Carl! You've tracked mud all over the carpet.
-
Now that right there is a mess.
-
I just had it cleaned yesterday, Carl.
-
I'm not responsible for this. I've been jamming on
the saxophone all morning.
-
They're clearly your hoof prints Carl.
-
Then there is an imposter on the lose.
-
They lead directly to you!
-
Clue number one, the imposter is a phantom.
-
Carl, stop avoiding...
-
(Explosion)
-
Carl!
-
Happy birthday!
-
It's not... please tell me you had nothing to do with this.
-
Why don't you blow out your candle?
-
You've gone too far this time, Carl.
-
What's that? It's hard to hear you over
the sound of melting city.
-
How did you even do this?
-
A dollop of fairy dust.
-
Carl!
-
I ripped a tag off a mattress.
-
This isn't funny, Carl.
-
Who's laughing? Clearly not all
the people who just exploded.
-
I'm leaving, I've had enough of this.
-
But think of all the perfectly roasted faces
we get to munch on now.
-
What? Why?
-
Because we're friends, and friendship is two pals munching on a well cooked face together.
-
That isn't friendship, Carl. That's sick.
-
Well, then you're probably not going to
like your birthday decorations.
-
It's not even my... Oh my god...
-
Suprise!
-
Oh, oh no. Ahh...
-
I'm sorry. I thought you liked faces.
Obviously there's a miscommunication.
-
This is awful, Carl.
-
You're right. It's not nearly as tasteful
as I pictured it in my head.
-
I think I'm going to throw... oh god, one touched me.
-
This was clearly the wrong way to go.
-
You think, Carl?
-
What can I say? I expected them to be cooked more.
Raw face is just gross.
-
That isn't the problem, Carl. Why would
you think any of this way a good idea.
-
Probably because I'm a dangerous sociopath
with a long history of violence.
-
- Oh.
- I don't understand how you keep forgetting that.
