“C’mere, lemme sing you that birthday song.”
Oh, no. I hate that song.
“Nah, don’t be blamin’ the poor song! You jus’ hate gettin’ sung AT. Supposed to be sung TO!”
You got a point.
“The ol’ Pig generally does.”
You are simply the hairiest beast in the world.
“I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”
It was one.
“Way I see it: you ain’t pretty like Weir, you gotta get yourself a look! Foxes are fascinated by the strange and unusual. My bouffant is downright entrancin’ to your average fox!”
I can see that.
“Brings ’em in close, makes ’em woozy with confusion and lust! Plus, I ain’t showered for a few days, so pheromones is just pourin’ off!”
“And then I crawl ’em!”
“It’s like the song says: the ol’ Pig’s got the ways and means!”
You sure do.
“Happy birthday, you ol’ bastard.”
Happy deathday, you ol’ Pig.