"Welcome back loyal fans of journalism. It's me, Carl Azuz, and as you all know it's been five days since I started my stakeout at the North Pole. Stakeout?" said Carl, withdrawing an old, disgusting looking steak from his coat pocket and throwing it onto the ground. "I'm so hungry for some fresh food I wish I could order takeout. Ka-blam! Y'all just been Carled. But really, I've been eating so much snow my urethra turned into a slushee machine. Seriously folks, I'm so cold--"
Carl was just off by what appeared to be a sonic boom followed by a giant crash into the snow behind him.
"Finally!" yelled a stupid voice from the depths of the newly formed crater. "The Rock has come back to Antarctica!"
"I hate to," Carl pulled out a bubble wand from his pocket and blew a bubble, "burst your bubble," he whipped out a pin and popped the soapy orb, "but this isn't Antarctica. This is the North Pole!"
"Wait what's the name of this place?" asked The Rock.
"I told you, it's the Nor--"
"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT ITS NAME IS!" yelled The Rock. "In just seven days you're going to be calling this place 'Cleopatra's Final Resting Place Sponsored by The Rock'."
"Well you heard it here first folks," said Carl to the camera. "The Rock is planning to build some sort of tomb at the North Pole, and he's dead serious. Get it? Dead? A tomb? Y'all just been Carled 'gain! Someone better stop him before he destroys the North Pole forever!"
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