I’m wanted in every state except this one

I’ll tell you, man, when you punch out the Pope’s wife, bad things happen to you, man, bad things. Not only is the law on my chipmunk tail, but also Jesus’ entourage as well, and I gotta tell ya, it has not been a pleasant seven days riding in my white Bronco across the interstate.

For one thing, I am running out of Cheetos in my change compartment and on my floor. I mean, being on the lamb is great and all, but when you run out of food, it’s game over, man, game over.

For second thing, I have not been able to have a good piss in a long time. It’s always right out the side window, or in my Converse All Stars, or on my hands, but never in a urinal (or porta potty) as it should be.

I feel like less a man.

But if I can make it to the lawless state of New Jersey, I just know I’ll be safe. There, the sheriff will cower behind the shadows of the state’s great gun slinging heroes. And then the cameramen, the law, and even Jesus’ ninjas will have to face the wrath of the Garden State! Mwa ha ha ha!

Jersey will protect me.

And, oh yeah. This last message is to the Pope.

If I could, I’d punch your wife in the monkey face again! Booyah! I have no shame! NO SHAME!