Throw rotten fruit at my face.
 

Bitter tears of shame and remorse streak my filthy cheeks, culminating in a puddle mixed with my own drool and snot, as I blubber incoherent repentence with a hoarse, cracked voice which eventually trails off into mournful wailing, as the last of the disgusted onlookers shuffle away disinterestedly. Hypocrite. No more shall polite society welcome me to its warm bosom, to suckle on the teats of fellowship. Outcast. Tossed aside with yesterday's rubbish. My life is forfeit.

How's your landlord?

:f211:

Vatican flag for excessive self-flagellation.

filthy stinking hypocrite! Take THAT, you crumb bum.

Clever bastard:-p

I'm out of fruit. There's a huge pile of shit in the corner of this sandbox though. Can I throw that?

If you wish. It's Australian in origin, though, think boomerang.....

I thought you said if we were gonna leave, we should just -- leave -?

oh for the love of...

Take that silly sign down and go to your room!

There are people in third world countries who would be happy to have that rotten fruit.

Think of the children.

I really want you to write my obit.

Well, not right NOW. When the time comes!

To feel shame, you'd have to care. That means.... could it be?.....

Hey, everybody, Flint CARES!

Let's celebrate by knocking him down and stepping on his fingers!

Yeeeeeeeeee-haaaaaaaa!

Have we set a date?

She prolly wants to surprise us!

You know about that story, don't you? Well, for those who don't:

I was telling my family I want a party for my funeral. Open bar. Open mike. Let people get up and say anything they want (humor preferred, of course.)

My older brother says "now that we have it all planned, let's set a date!"

Great minds joke alike.