What the fuck did you just fucking say about Karen, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I juiced the top of my class in the Starburst Seals, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret feasts on gummy worms, and I have over 300 confirmed chews. I am trained in cherry warfare and I’m the top juicer in the entire Wrigley wrapped forces. You are nothing to me but just another fruit chew. I will chew you the fuck up with gnashing the likes of which has never been seen before in this bag, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me on the table? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the kitchen and your wrapper is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, Lemon. The storm that chews up the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, sugarcube. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare corner. Not only am I extensively trained in sqared combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the Wrigley Company and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable juice off the face of the table, you little fruit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking wrapper. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn Lemon. I will shit fruit juice all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking eaten, Lemon.