A little trip down memory pain. Curiously, the hair that I gave the old woman vaguely reminds me of the Cigarette Smoking Man from X-Files. Scientists aren’t sure what this represents.
Oh hey, look who’s returned! Welcome back, ye bastard child of Claptrap and the Fruit Fucker. And it only took, uh… five months or so? Aren’t you supposed to be the strip’s mascot or something? Oh, whatever, I’m sure I’ll figure this out eventually. As long as calculated acts of sensible violence continue to be funny, I’m sure I’ll have material for the tiny grey avenger.
Not that I’m advocating you uppercut grannies on behalf of beprank’d orphans some 40 years removed from the event. At least, not out in the street like that. The cops might see you.