O.J. sprints into the livingroom with football all-star speed and spots Bart Simpson watching TV.
O.J.: You're the murderer! You cut Nicole with your spiky hair.
BART: Ay, carumba!
O.J.: You talk like a Colombian drug dealer. It all fits. (Fearfully) Stay away from me. Keep that dangerous hairdo away.
BART: I didn't do it.
O.J.: Oh yeah? Where were you the night Nicole and that horny white guy were murdered?
BART: I was killing my principal in Springfield, so I couldn't have been in California at the same time.
O.J.: You're a liar! (Points at Bart's red shirt) You're covered in blood!
O.J. sniffs deeply. His nose hairs quiver with excitement.
O.J.: You smell just like Nicole after her period. You've got that not-so-fresh stink.
BART: So what, man. That doesn't prove anything... except that you like to smell little boys.
O.J.'s eyes bulge out like they're about to shoot across the room. Steam billows out of his ears.
O.J.: (Enraged) I'll rip your head off and kick it like a field goal, you punk ass kid! Don't you dare dis me! You know who I am, punk?
BART: Yeah, a murderer.
O.J. picks up one end of the couch Bart is sitting on and flips it over with psychotic strength. Bart is tossed onto the floor.
O.J.: (Turns towards the camera) Look how violent he is. He gave me a splinter. Oh, the pain! Oh, the agony! Oh, my Lord!
O.J. moans and groans with the acting skills that almost got him an Oscar for such films as "Naked Gun" and "Naked Gun 33 1/2." Troy McClure won them instead.
BART: You're crying like a girl. Don't have a cow, woman.
O.J.: (Growls quietly with teeth tightly clenched) If there wasn't a camera here, I'd splatter your DNA all over the walls.