This is Papa Bear. Put out an APB for a male suspect, driving a... car of some sort, heading in the direction of, uh, you know, that place that sells chili. Suspect is hatless. Repeat, hatless.— Wiggum
Brockman: ...which, if true, means death for us all.
Frank Grimes: From now on, we're enemies.
Homer: Oh, ok. (pause) Do I have to do anything?
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