You're looking at Mr. Fred Renard, who carries on his shoulder a chip the size of the national debt. This is a sour man. A friendless man. A lonely man. A grasping, compulsive, nervous man. This is a man who has lived thirty-six undistinguished, meaningless, pointless, failure-laden years...and, who at this moment, looks for an escape. Any escape. Anyway, anything, anybody to get out of the rut. And this little old man...is just what Mr. Renard is waiting for.
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