More Horrendously Escalating Bad News

First, my cat dies and the Weedwacker works and the air is let out of my chef's hat and Popeye's bye-bye and a turban's AWOL and the broccoli's cockamamie and a sex scandal looms and "wash me" and Damon's a deadbeat and the snap's shot.

Now, there is no bad news.

Yeah, you read that correctly.

"There is no bad news."

Nothing new. No #11.

Tough break.

Sorry for the disappointment.

I am looking forward to bad news tomorrow, though. Pinky swear!

After all, it comes in twelves.
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