Help me, please!

Oh no. Someone please help. You see I am so sapped of strength that all I can do is nap in a series of adorable poses.


I can barely keep my eyes open.

Here is why. LOOK AT MY WEIGHT!!!!


My ma ape says that this is a Type O but I see nothing about my blood type, only a weight that is DANGEROUSLY LOW and OBVIOUSLY ACCURATE. I will take all donations in food form. (Meats preferred but not necessary.) And I will take offers from Angelina Jolie to adopt me. I hear she feeds her kids junk food.

With the Greatest of Eeeeees

Do you see how worried I am? Yes, I am a worried boy. And why?

Well, I have to say I'm worried about my friend Joe. You see him here.

You see, Joe is a Yankeeeees fan. And he is about to be CRUSHED with the Phileeeeees blast them into Smithereens in the WORLD SERIES. Poor Joe. Don't worry, it will be ok.

And here I am deep in thought. What kind of snacks will I make Joe send me when the Yankeeeees lose? Bagels and lox? Kosher hot dogs? Knishes? Cheesecake? Pierogies? Thin crust pizza? Or since he is in Arizona--CARNE ASADA!


P.S. Dear Phillies. I really want Carne Asada so please don't make me eat crow.