Long ago, in a time of high adventure!
When you stare into the abyss, you're actually looking into my kitchen window. Guess what, pervert? I called the cops on you. Yeah, that's right, you're going to jail, courtesy of me. They'll probably either go easy on you, or lynch you right away, because they don't take too kindly to kitchen window lookers.
Furthermore, there are cryptids in jail. And they don't take kindly to those types in jail. They only take kindly to bunyips, gambos, and hodags. If you aren't one of those, or if you're a different cryptid, you best watch your back homeslice, cause they'll be on you like butter on butter. EEP!
Nowadays I keep myself busy doing rull menial tasks, like shadowboxing, time-traveling, and amateur professionalism. What am I a professional at, you ask? Why, dnacing, mon frier. That's french for 'Heathcliff," dontcha know. Oh, and before I frogget, lemme take a little bit of time out to address a very srs subject: Who took the cookie from the cookie jar? Someone once accused me of doing the act, but through a series of photographs and interpretive dances, I proved that it was actually Huey Lewis and the News what took said cookie from its porcelain housing.
A new moon has risen, and you're gonna die in its gaze!