“BOBBY! Hold up, man! I got a pitch! It involves whiskey, fireworks, and one of those inflatable flailing arm guys, but shaped like ME!”

But Bobby is gone, vanished from the 24/7 hallway like beef jerky smoke in the wind.

Thunder Knuckles skids to a halt as he nearly crashes into Madison Dyson, who’s still mentally unraveling from her encounter with the walking charcuterie board. Thunder Knuckles, struck by an idea that hasn’t finished loading in his head, reaches out and SLAPS HER SAGGY RIGHT TITTY.

“Gotcha, Bitch!.”

There’s a moment of pure silence as Thunder Knuckles looks into Madison Dyson's eyes. Then physics kicks in. The slap sends Madison's breast flapping like a windsock in a hurricane, looping upward with cartoonish velocity and BAM! It collides directly with Madison’s jaw. Her head snaps back, eyes cross, and she collapses backward in a heap. Thunder Knuckles' instincts take over, and he goes for the pin. The referee starts the count.

1

!

2

!

Through the magic of television we are provided with Maddy's exact thought process as the above transpired.

Oh great, it's the other one. The one that smells like wet crotch. As if the salami wasn't bad enough. 

Now what are we....oh bitch!

OH BITCH!

Did you just slap me with my own titty?!!

Madison kicks out with a VENGEANCE! 

Oh TK you really fucking did it now! 

TITTIES! ENGAGE! DEFENSE PROTOCOL THETA IPSO THETA!

Suddenly, Madison's titties extend and clap TK's head between them, no doubt puncturing his ear drums! And if TK is upset about this he can only blame himself because he made Maddy's elasti-titties a thing! 

Maddies titties then slip back into their normal shape as TK falls to his knees, pawing at his ears as the tinnitus takes hold. She walks off into the sunset, having confidently defended her and her titties honor. 

Titty.