Why kill him. Death ends pain. Let him get patched up and sit in a jail cell until his court case then go to prison for a few years.
Adds pain, suffering, and embarrassment longer. He won't like telling that story behind bars, and it may get him placed in the "Bitch Unit" to keep Bubba from making him his girlfriend
He'll probably think twice if and when he gets freed to the real world again.
Today I had to go to Lowe's. As I approached the entrance, I noticed a driver looking for a parking space.
I flagged the driver and pointed out a handicap parking space that was open and available. The driver looked puzzled, rolled down their window and said, "I'm not handicapped!"
Well, as you can imagine, my face was red! "Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "I saw your 'I'm Ridin with Biden' bumper sticker and just assumed that you suffer from a mental disorder."
They gave me the finger and screamed some nasty names at me. Boy! Some people don't appreciate it when you're just trying to help them...
Dear Ms Lonelyhearts,
I am a twenty-three year old liberated woman who has
been on the pill for two years. It's getting expensive
and I think my boyfriend should share half the cost,
but I don't know him well enough to discuss money with
Dear Ms Lonelyhearts,
I've suspected that my husband has been fooling
around, and when confronted with the evidence, he
denied everything and said it would never happen
Joan was at her hairdresser's getting her hair styled for a trip to Rome with her husband.
She mentioned the trip to her hairdresser, who responded: "Rome? Why would anyone want to go to Rome? It's crowded, smelly, and dirty. You're crazy to go there.
So, how are you getting there?”
"We're flying United” was the reply. "We got a great rate!”
“United?" exclaimed the hairdresser." United is a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly, and they're always late. Where are you staying in Rome?”
"We'll be at this exclusive little place over on the Tiber River called Taste.”
"Don't go any further. I know that place. Everybody thinks it's gonna be something special and exclusive, but it's a total dump.”
"We're going to go to see the Vatican and maybe get to see the Pope.”
"That's rich," laughed the hairdresser. ”You and a million other people trying to see him. He'll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours. You're going to need it.”
A month later, Joan was back again at the hairdresser's. The beautician asked her about her trip to Rome.
"It was wonderful," explained Joan, "not only were we on time in one of United’s brand new planes, but it was overbooked, and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were terrific, and we had a handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on us hand and foot...
The Taste hotel was great too! They'd just finished a $5 million remodeling, and now it's a jewel, the finest hotel in the city. They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us their owner's suite at no extra charge!”
"Well," muttered the hairdresser, "that's all well and good, but I know you didn't get to see the Pope.”
"Actually, we were quite lucky, because as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder and explained that the Pope likes to meet some of the visitors, and if I'd be so kind as to step into his private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet us.
Sure enough, five minutes later, the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand! I knelt down, and he spoke a few words to me...”
"Oh, really! What'd he say?”
He said: "Who screwed up your hair?