Tales From The Cage

I was minding my own bizness in my golden cage. Scratching, eating bananas, that kind of shit. I then remembered i had one phone call i could make. (Caging rules are too exhaustive to explain). I WANT MY PHONE CALL! i yelled . So i did the obvious, i phoned my publicist, Tatiana Bitchakova.

– Waaaaaaaz up B!!!
– Oh gawd…in the Cage again?
– Yep.
– Can’t do nothing for you, Jepeto.
– What? Hey i pay you top dollars Bitchakova!
– It is not about money. Let me be direct.You need to change. You need a more positive image or you’ll spend your life in the Cage.
– Waaaa?
– My dear Jepeto. Your image is one of a caveman with Tourette’s. Show the world your humane side, if that is possible. Help me help you, Jepeto. Help ME help YOU!
– Hahahaha!!! Das from Jerry McGuire, you funny B. You suck!

That enlightening conversation made me enlightened. I think. Even if i wanted to punch her hard in the ovaries, roll her in a carpet and  dump her in the St-Lawrence River, Bitchakova had a point. Redeem yourself my man! So after twenty-four hours of hard thinking, i present you the Real Jepeto. The soft one. The daddy. I selected a nice video of my son playing in the backyard. As you will notice, not only i am a very nice person, but so is my spawn. Not a shred of Evil. The Jepeto line will from now on be nice.

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