My refrigerator contained a number of rotten tomatoes so I asked Mr. Google what to do with them. Normally I would just throw them into traffic but I wanted to find a more environmentally friendly way to dispose of them. So, I only threw them at Toyota Priuses. Even then, I still had some rotten tomatoes left over. Mr. Google suggested I visit the aptly named website Rotten Tomatoes.
This site contained almost no useful information on just what I should do with this bag of nasty-ass tomatoes. Then I had a brilliant idea. After beating the homeless man for ten minutes with my bag of rotting tomatoes, I figured my apartment complex probably has a compost pile.
I politely inquired to the property manager, "Where do you keep the shit-pile?"
She opened the center drawer of her desk, inexplicably pulled out a handgun, pointed it right at me, and screamed, "Get away from me, you fucking psycho!"
I dropped the bag of tomatoes as I raised both my hands. After running away, I realized that my problems were solved. No thanks to that shitty website.
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