I've got some regrets. I think the one that floats to the top is, well, having my noggin knocked clean off by a cannonball.
Secondly, I regret that the only information most people know about Hessian soldiers came from Schoolhouse Rock.
Sure, it's true we were all clones who lacked genitalia or toes, and we sleep without sheets on our cloning tables, and the ones with the most genetic defects had stars coming out of their bulbous noses, but the rest are all outright rebel lies!
But I think what I regret most was chasing Ichabod Crane. Ichabod. Ichabod! I had to do it, that name tightens up the tattered pieces of flesh that compose what was left of my neck. Ichabod sounds like the scientific name for some kind of ground slug that only lives on moldy cocktail franks soaked in axe body spray.
So, in my anger, I made a slight error.
If you've already lost one head -- and here's a bit of advice for you kids -- don't throw the other!
What the hell was I thinking? I guess I must have had something in my reasoning messed up by the cloning.
Scans from The Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow, lifted from The Haunted Closet.
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