Had you not tattled on me, the money I’d have stolen from Mr. Poopendick would’ve made our dreams into entelechy…we’d have been half way to Bali, the keys to his mansion in one hand, the keys to his whorehouse in the other!
As soon as I saw Mr. Poopendick’s floorplan blueprints and a list of his bank accounts slip out from under that old warthog’s skirt I knew her scheme to steal from him was an entelechy and not just some crazy dream she came up with while under the roofie I had given her – what? No. No need to tattle on me. I never gave her a roofie.
Johnson Poopendick came to the beautiful entelchy one day after his brother, Jonas Poopendick tattled on him for stealing all of the cookies–there was only room for one Poopendick in this town.