I've been working with the penguins this entire time. That's right. They've been paying me in partially digested bits of fish as long as I continually send them information. They don't care what kind of information; weather reports, movie reviews, my personal opinions on which types of pants are just too much.
I know I've done a good job of hiding it all these years, but I am in fact evil. Luckily for me, no one suspected a thing.
I am revealing this now because the final plan is in action and it's too late to stop it. I'm definitely not saying all of this because I am tied to a small wooden stool with no back support and there's a penguin pointing a gun at my left foot. It's definitely because I am working with them.
Do not try to foil their dastardly schemes. I implore you that there is nothing you can do to stop their genius plan to... *reads notes* ...raise the price of flannel sleepwear by 18 cents globally.
Yes, you may as well give up now. Relinquish your pickles and surrender yourselves to the nearest human reeducation camp.
Seacrest out.
