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Exhibit C. It's truly criminal.

Hello and welcome to my favorite murder. The mini-sode. The mini-sode from the quarantine.

We're still doing it, are you? Let's get let's do it.

You really should. You write us emails. We read them aloud and and the symbiosis goes on and on.

Hmm. It's a beautiful thing. You want the first? Sure. This subject line gives it away so I'll just

read it. Okay. Greetings from the Midwest. Let's get right into it. It was the mid-80s and my mom had a

wild perm and my brother and I were not yet around to drive her and my dad bananas.

Bananas premiered last week on the exact right network. Please.

From a code murder. My parents had just bought their first home in a suburb just south west of

Chicago. I just did that with a Chicago accent. Chicago. One day the real estate agent that sold

him their house showed up their door with a dog and asked them if they wanted to keep it.

My mom being the animal lover she is happily took him in without question. How come that doesn't

happen to me? I want that to happen to me. Ding dong. Yes. Do you want the best dog ever?

Yes. He was a beautiful amber and red golden retriever that my parents named Duke.

Oh. So rolled up beautiful bean footage that Duke. The famous one? The beans.

What talking bean dog? Apparently the real estate agent let's call her Peggy was in the process

of showing a nearby home that had belonged to a Chicago mobster who was recently murdered.

The man had left behind his widow as well as his dog. You may see where this is going. Peggy noticed

that the mobster's widow would leave the dog tied up in the backyard all day long and did not

...