Its not often I stop on Pillsbury Lane

Maybe I’m a pussy, but whenever I see the Doughboys, I walk on the other side of the street. I’m not afraid or anything. I just don’t like dealing with their shit. So what if I have red hair? So what if my shoes are really big? What does it matter to them? I don’t go around poking their bellies and asking them to make that dumb giggle. Why can’t they leave a guy alone? I tell them every time, I say, “Look guys, I don’t make the Happy Meals, I’m just the spokesman.” But those dumb asses never listen.

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Title by: Anonymous
Story by: Jenny

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