You… beasts! But I’m not beaten yet. You’ve won the battle, but I’m
about to win the wardrobe. My spotty puppy coat is in plain sight and
leaving tracks. In a moment I’ll have what I came for, while all of you
will end up as sausage meat, alone on some sad, plastic plate. Dead and
meaty and red. No friends, no family, no pulse. Just slapped between two
buns, smothered in onions, with fries on the side. Cruella De Vil has
the last laugh!