Sherman- That kid Butch is still bothering me. You think I should rationally explain to him that my lunch money is indeed MINE?
BMJ- Sherman, if you were a 6-foot-4 bully kid in the 8th grade that could steal things from all the other kids at will, would YOU listen to a rational talk from a kid like you?
Sherman- I see your point. Thanks, buddy.
BMJ- I'm wearing different clothes now.
Later that day...
Sherman- Next time, I'd appreciate it if you made your advice a little clearer. Say, weren't you a brown-haired kid wearing completely different clothes before?
BMJ- There wasn't a frustrated-looking model for my regular character.
BMJ- Holy shit...I'm screwed. I'm also petrified, contrary to the almost bored look on my face.
Butch- I'm going to eat your pancreas on a Ritz cracker.
BMJ- Methinks I need a disguise...
Who the...Wait, where the hell's my knife?! And where did this tie come from?
Someone who definitely isn't BMJ- Wanna pet my kitty? What's that you say, Snookums? You don't want this large young man to kill BMJ and/or cause him immense physical discomfort?
Sherman- Well, as a matter of fact, I am. So how did your little "meeting" with Butch go? Hee hee. Did yo-
BMJ- When you get up, if you make it to the phone, give me a call so I can come over and knock you down again.
And, so, all's well that ends well. Sherman is lying crippled and unconscience on his bedroom floor, and Butch is a changed man, thanks to BMJ's charming personality and quick thinking.
Butch- *Sniff* No one's ever given me flowers before...I'm think going to go adopt a child and love him and pet him.