When a story breaks, we imagine it is something sudden, a revelation, a bombshell.

But more often, the downfall of something powerful happens slowly.

Incrementally, through accumulation.

The data dump you're about to hear from our colleagues in the news womb did not reveal something new about the TCBs. It revealed something

complete, thousands of hours of footage, patterns of behavior, rehearsed denials, crimes that were

not hidden so much as performed over and over again. Nobody has seen or heard from the TCB since the story hit the feeds.

Some think they're laying low.

Some hypothesized they've taken to the wastelands outside the tower to establish their own.

Hey, bitches.

It's me.

Candy Crimes are the True Crime Bitches, breaking in, literally, with a special report.

It turns out we were framed by these total weirdos who couldn't even be bothered to name their gang.

Lame.

We've got the full story tomorrow night at eight, but that's not all.

Not only are we going to recover the true story of the framing of the TCBs, but we've managed to catch one of the perpetrators.

Petey Pancakes. Say hi, Petey. What?

Sorry, Rob. I understand. You all just like broke in the iron glasses studio to say this?

Don't worry about it. He's still a little groggy from the pancake syrup we gave him. Man, that guy will drink anything you hand him. Anyways, tomorrow night we reveal the shocking truth story. Don't interrupt me. Sorry. Tomorrow night, we reveal the shocking, shocking truth. No, you interrupted me again. Just do you not have syrup? Go ahead. Tomorrow night, we reveal the trocking true story. Now you fuck me up. I'm fucking. I said, trucking. I fucking spoke. Just flurring your speech. You sound ridiculous. I'm slurring my speech. Wow, babe. Wow. You sound fucking crazy right now. You sound like a fucking abuser. Wow. Yeah.

Yeah.

This is microaggressions.

You're a macrogression.

This is why we need to go on that show with that Italian woman.

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