Banned from Waffle Houses across the Southeast, I drive the getaway car for the Waffle Bunny Bandit. He looks cute, gets served his food, then bares his fangs and goes batshit on the breakfast. In the ensuing melee, he bounds out into the parking lot and we make our escape. He always saves me some bacon and some toast. That’s why he’s my new best friend.
I found my new best friend at Under The Licorice Tree (via Craftzine), whose talented proprietor has this to say about him: “calvin drinks maple soda with his waffles and likes to dance the macarena. don’t try and take his waffle…”
Wise advice.
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