The problem with the future is that it keeps turning into the present.
A day can really slip by when you're deliberately avoiding what you're supposed to do.
I'll bet my autopsy reveals my mouth is too big.
Calvin: Dear Santa, before I submit life to your scrutiny, I demand to know who made YOU the matter of my fate?! Who are YOU to question my behavior, HUH??? What gives you the right?! Hobbes: Santa makes the toys, so he gets to decide who to give them to. Calvin: Oh.
CALVIN: Our hero regains consciousness at the feet of a sarcastic alien.
Good friends are hard to come by... I need more money.