Please don’t let me get sick and die.
Very sad… and very fucking funny. RIP Patrice.
As a former Texan, this could not be more hilarious.
I know she was joking, but I’m 100% serious: if I ever see Amy Schumer in a bar and it’s last call, I’m getting blackout drunk.
I am a police officer who works midnights and the other night I was thinking about what might happen if I ever encountered a werewolf while on patrol. Let’s just say for the sake of this scenario that when I run into the werewolf, I’m alone in an isolated area. No witnesses and no camera in the cruiser recording the events. Let us also assume that standard bullets would be effective in place of silver ones. It is conventional wisdom that when a werewolf is killed, they revert back to human form. In addition, when a man turns into a werewolf, he gains size and whatever clothes he was wearing are torn off like the Incredible Hulk. Therefore, if the werewolf attacked me and I had to shoot it dead, I would then be left with a mostly naked unarmed man riddled with bullets lying dead in the middle of nowhere. How would I explain that to the boys back at the station house?
It’s true. Christ, I never thought about that. There are only two ways of getting out of it: One: your buddy in forensics finds fur at the scene matching both your friend’s DNA AND the DNA of a wolf. Two: Your union offers you robust legal protection and City Hall, desperate to show they don’t look incompetent, plants evidence on the werewolf making it look like you had to no choice but to shoot the fucker seventeen times while he was unarmed in a parking lot. Then you get relegated to a cushy desk job, where you get paid a state salary for very little work, then you retire at 45 with an 80% pension and a second job in security consulting that essentially doubles your pay. That’s probably what would happen. So don’t fear that werewolf attack. EMBRACE IT. It could be your path to easy street.