Sometimes when I sit back and survey my situation, and I see my dog's guts strewn about the room and all over the baby, and the razor wire is unspooling itself, and the upturned fishtank has left my goldfish gasping for breath, and the knives are dancing like little Russian ballet dancers or something, and the walls are crying, and the stench of garbage is overpowering, I think, "Thank you, Urkel, for showing me my soul."
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