Red Dwarf. First off, Stevie sounds like a Speak-and-Spell, and that can't help but make me nostalgic for my days as a knee-high ass-kicker. I'm ready rip him a new wormhole, if you will. But experience has taught me to be patient. I mean, you can't just roll the gimp over a bridge. Wily bastard just puts on the brakes. Yet a well-placed broomstick in his spokes and a well-delivered kick to his back and you'll have the good doctor splayed across the buffet table. I did it, friends. And it was glorious.
WHO: Walt Disney
WHERE: Brookline, MA. December 12, 2002; New England Cryogenic Center.
HOW IT WENT DOWN: I know what you're going to say: "But he' already dead." Correction: cryogenically frozen. I've got a buddy who works security for the place where they keep his cartooning butt on ice. He let me in one afternoon and I wailed away on ol' Walty until sundown. I kicked him in the nuts alone for at least half an hour. Don't get me wrong, I love those old Disney films. It was just a chance I couldn't pass up. And you can bet, when they defrost that fatty in the age of rocket cars, he'll cough up some blood, see the boot prints on his chest, and know I was the baddest mo-fo in the 21st century.
WHO: Kirsten Dunst
WHERE: New York, NY. June 12, 2004; Nobu.
HOW IT WENT DOWN: Not as wiry as an Olsen twin, not as crafty as Winona Ryder, but a formidable opponent nonetheless. I saw her out on the town, acting all adorable and I knew I had to deliver a little two-fisted justice. After all, this is one of the people responsible for
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