In this episode, Swoops, the fast-talking protagonist and his level headed buddy Darryl find a German Shepherd outside the bowling alley one night. After a debate on the dog's fate, it is alluded that Swoops' girlfriend is allergic and Darryl's...
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In this episode, Swoops, the fast-talking protagonist and his level headed buddy Darryl find a German Shepherd outside the bowling alley one night. After a debate on the dog's fate, it is alluded that Swoops' girlfriend is allergic and Darryl's landlord won't let him keep the dog. They set out to find the original owner. What they discover is that the dog belongs to Erwin Rommel IV, descendant of the Nazi general, who lives just a few blocks away from Darryl. And when they uncover a suspected sinister plot on Rommel's part. What follows can only be described as a hilarious Huck Finn-like journey of self discovery ending when Swoops and Darryl give the dog to the police who in turn, arrest Swoops for dog-napping and Rommel for conspiracy.

Swoops makes bail and charges are dropped on all parties as it was all just a big misunderstanding. It turns out that Rommel was just baking a cake, or something.

I happen to know this gigantic man-child personally, and I must say, I'm thoroughly unimpressed.

Under a bulky exterior lies a harmless imbecile, who one time porked a fat lesbian, resulting in a pregnancy scare in college. At the...
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I happen to know this gigantic man-child personally, and I must say, I'm thoroughly unimpressed.

Under a bulky exterior lies a harmless imbecile, who one time porked a fat lesbian, resulting in a pregnancy scare in college. At the end of the story, it turns out it was either gas or a yeast infection and she only put up with him was to get revenge or something. Nevertheless, the dirty happened. They porked. The woman was panting heavily, and the sweat dripped off her brow like the fat draining out of a hamburger roasting on the George Foreman Grill. Then the sweat began to soak through the ass area of her aqua blue pantyhose, making a stain across her ass that was precisely in the shape of the continent of Africa. They porked in every imaginable position, using every piece of college paraphernalia, every football prop and bong some creative, hideous way. At one point he had an entire rolled up yoga mat up the fat lady’s butt, making it look like Africa on a stick! (An image I have only begun to scour from my brain with a heavy dose of bashing my skull into the living room wall repeatedly) For the most part, I don't think Yves regrets the whole ordeal one bit.

So to anybody who ever sees this clumsy ape of a man hobbling or driving down the street, (he shouldn't be hard to spot, he's about 6'8" and he has a purple cast on his leg, seeming to only proclaim his "alleged" homosexuality to the world and his borrowed '87 Nissan butt-mobile is also a blinding shade of mauve) I can only give you one piece of advice: run. Run far away as fast as you can and never look back because you may be next.