The photo of the strange hanging jellyfish thing in my dining room is evidence, once again, that they are perfecting their kill room skills.
My new theory is that, because Dexter is done as a television series about a lovable serial murderer, they have nothing better to do with their time than to frighten unsuspecting painting customers with their tarping talents.
I am hoping for another freak snow squall to divert my attention from possibly impending terror, screaming, and a lot of running (for which I am not currently conditioned).
I could release Marshal Dillon Dingle from his painting-induced-pantry-prison. He seems pretty pissed off to be cut out of the action anyway.
Plus, he thinks Glen and Elias might taste like chicken.
Thanks for readin’.
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