‘Puppet’ is lucky to have a gig, any gig.

Back in the day we used to brutally stone midget freaks like that routinely. Just get some liquor and a bunch of rocks, start beaning the little freak on the noggin and whatnot until he was a bag of bloody, unrecognizable pulp. Then we would usually feed the freak remains to some pigs, friends of mine, or any visiting guest, for appetizers.

Unless they can juggle, tell jokes, or vomit on cue, you know something really novel. Midget freaks are sent to dwell in the worse smelling and most poorly lit parts of Hell for all eternity. I really don’t like them, generally speaking.

See ya soon, ‘Puppet’.

Keep On Chemtrailing,
The Boss