I’ll heave a hefty bag at the situation
and tell my dentist that I really don’t want
anything to do with these Fonzie imitators anymore.
They’re all so obsessed with having
a good time and donning leather jackets
that I’m just getting sick of it all!
How tired a custom is this, where you’re reduced
to spouting cliché catchphrases at gunpoint?
Remember when you took that loan from the mafia,
and they told you that they would be expecting
a favor in return some day? Well, your bell’s been rung,
buddy. All you can do now is pray that you get
in touch with Henry Winkler, for the purpose of
delivering a faithful Fonz to your brutal overlords.
I mean, otherwise, they might end up breaking
your fingers and toes. I wouldn’t consider that
situation to be 100% ideal, would you?
WHARVED 