What kind of depraved motherfucker walks into a stranger’s two-car garage, on a tree-lined suburban street, in broad fucking daylight, rummages through the refrigerator — and there are people in the house this whole time, mind you — and helps himself to a whole case of beer?
If you know, tell me. Because I’d like to meet him. I’ve got a baseball bat I’d like to show him. Up close.