I was goin' over to da KOT's place to ask him ta donate some orange slices fer da boys. They were gonna be pretty tired after Golf Club Team prartice. The Cheat had taken over da coachin duties, tryin' ta teach da guys how ter defend themselves. Even I was learnin a thing or two.
It was my turn ta bring the snacks, so I had figured da KOT would have some grub. Unfratulently, he didn't feel like prating with any of his food.
"Doo hoo hoo! You might be able to get some from The Poopsmith though," he said as I was leaving.
I headed around ta da back a da castle, where The Poopsmith lived. I had to walk right by his grabage can to get there. When I looked over ta check out what the KOT had thrown away, I gasped. Amongst the trash was a big wooden crate with stamps all over it. On the top, it was written in Strong Bad's handwriting, "East Reykjavik."
The top was lying next to the crate. I frorze. I could see The Chort in my mind, coming towards me with a drarver in his little blue hands. I peeked into the crate.
It was empty.
