He karate chopped his hands down on the butcher

He karate chopped his hands down on the butcher block. "I want this much, and not an inch more, and ready in half-an-hour." Then he turned on his two-tones and went out.

Hitler's great grandson had planned a large dinner party and as usual, he was taking no chances with the preparations. Things would run smoothly and to his liking or

house burned down. It was Mr. Hitler's house. He'd been living in it ever since leaving home. He'd left the oven on. Gas stove. Burned it down. Now he was homeless. So much

for the Jewish Fire Department down the street. Hitler decided that if they weren't gonna work on Shabbat, when he needed them most, they weren't gonna work ever again. Extreme

Jewish Makeover was Hitler's new reality show. "The concept sucks," said Aaron Spelling, Jr., "but plenty of anti-Semitic people would probably still watch." Hitler wanted

to admit he wished he was Jewish but felt that because he'd been bullying for so long people just expected it of him. Hitler was dropped on his head as a child. His anger was

growing stronger with each headache. But no, they were not regular headaches. The lights... the voices, those beautiful voices so hard to understand. They were trying to warn him

about SCP-173 and how he escaped from the lab.

What he did was rearrange his code number with his license plate, and the authorities were none the wiser.