Well, it finally happened. We've run out of weed, we've run out of problems to solve, and the rabid dogs are going to eat us. We are, to put it politely, mega-fucked.
We're not going down without a fight, though. Using every ounce of creativity remaining to us, we tackle the problems of impromptu retail security, zucchinis that resemble bombs, and Thailand's pending war against gasoline-addicted monkeys. We're definitely going to die, though. I don't know why we're even bothering to write this.
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