You begin to question this feud you've been embroiled in with your neighbor for so long. After all, he did just give you the number for some honest to God whores, even if they did ultimately rob you. He also just helped you escape. Maybe it's time to bury the hatchet and help him out of his office.

In a stirring homage to the tubby boy "Chunk" in The Goonies, you lift your shirt and produce the most blubber-jostling jig you can muster. 

Really, you are just utterly astounded by how shitty your IMAGINATION is. If your IMAGINATION was a face you would punch it.

In the face.