I ran out into the street with these flesh-eating weasels all over my face. Wavin' my arms all around and just runnin', runnin', runnin' like a constipated wiener dog. And as luck would have it, that's exactly when I ran into the girl of my dreams. Her name was Zelda. She was a calligraphy enthusiast with a slight overbite and hair the color of strained peaches. I'll never forget the first thing she said to me. She said, "Hey, you've got weasels on your face."
