All hail President Frankenstein

So I come home from a not-very-good-but-not-horrible movie (Scary Movie Four. Or Scary Movie Vier... if you can only count in Dutch.) And my folks are out of town, somewhere south of the Mason-Dixon. Anyway, I open the door and my kitchen light is on and so is the TV in the living room. I poke my head into the living room and there's some goddamn people on my couch under a blanket. Who the fuck are these people, I ask myself. Oh...wait...Tim lives here again. Goddammit. If they boned on that couch I'm going to have him spayed.