User:DeRathi/ns
pulls down his pants and unleashed a torrent of wibbly-wobbling animals to end the Fourth Reich once and for all.
At precisely that moment Jon Chang bursts in and goes " YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGGHHHHHHH
HHHeeeuuuuuu", and Linda and I look at each other and reply, in unisono, "thus passeth Zarathustra".
Outside we saw the trees levitating, deep in meditation, while concrete nightmares flew loops around them and sang of days foregone. I faintly remember her vagina knitting little coffee table covers, but that might've been just my imagination. None of us had seen a day so fair and foul, and honestly, right then it did seem like Professor Grzimek was going to take the dump of the motherfucking century, right on the ant hive. We were young and naive, you see. I don't know if you ever felt like a spectral lollipop was hanging grimly over your head like a riced-out sword of Damocles, but that pretty much was the idea. The whole lot of us was very suddenly faced with the realization that, following the disaster to come, we may never see each other again. And we wept, and our tears bounced up and down chanting "lo, thrice the smelly cup barks" before flying out of the chimney and into the endless abyss of Disneyworld.
We then decided to read the Holy Scripture. I mean, you never know what bits of wisdom may be found in a really loving big book dedicated to the exploits of Jesus Hieronymus Christ and how he defeated the Empire, Fiwer and WAL*MART at the same time while surfing on a wave of liquified metal.
Carefully I blew the grass off the cover, opened the tome and began reciting it in a hilariously exaggerated falsetto.
Warble wurble bing bong. Ka-ching, c'est les animaux qui font le Ermächtigungsgesetz und furzten ehrerbietig im Angesicht von Sir Lloyd Humpington III, who ever so cunningly penetrated the Iron Curtain and took down three hundred of these pinko commie bastards all by himself with his trusty submachine gun "Emma".
Behold, my glasses rumbled with expectations untold as His Voice boomed out of a cheap Phillips radio clock and spake, "killmekillmekillmekillmekillmekillmekillmekillmek illmekillmekillmekillme". And so let it be known to all ye goat worshippers, that He will high-five the precatory, and all shall love him and gnash their teeth. Om 21,0-0.999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999 9999999999999999999999 != 1
And indeed, we gnashed our teeth, and by that I mean we swiftly removed our pants and began making out like only two broken refrigerators orbiting Jupiter can. Naturally this turned out to be a soggy idea, for only days later we were interrupted by an incessant knocking at my solar plexus.
It's-a me, Mario!
Franz Kafka gracefully leaped out of Natasha's left ear and immediately turned into a giant flagpole, the banner of the United Boogiepoppers gently wafting in the breeze ten miles above us. Grabbing our penises tightly, tears in our eyes, we sa
DAAAA DAAAA DAAAA DAAAAAAAA
DAAAA DAAAA DAAAA DAAAAAAAA
DADADADA DADADADA DADADAAAAA
DADADADA DADADADA DADADAAAAA
DAAA DAAA DAAAAAA DAAA
DAAA DAAA DAAAAAA DAAA
DADADADAAAAA DAAAAA DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
m, wondering where the hell he'd gotten that crazy idea from. Next thing you know he'll want to enchant the begrudged kitten and we'll all get a "get well soon" card from the Gestapo!
Blowing the Fairy Horn soundly, I launched the Bible at him. It struck his hydrant and bounced off with a "psssshrrrraaaaaaakt" sound, startling several nearby llamas and ending Devin's killing spree.
Mike looked at me funny. He also slowly turned black and made obscene gestures with a newly grown appendage.
"Reaay ouyay kayoay?", he inquired.
I retorted harshly with "IIIIIIIIIIIII EEEEEEENNNNNJOOOOOOOOYYYYY FIIIIIISSSSHHHHHIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGG".
Mike's mouth closed abruptly like that one festering sore on the anus of my pet rabbit Paladin.
"Let's go have a buoy", I quickly continued before he had a chance to smash me into the ground with his enormous cranium.
"Arblegarble", he agreed. We swam out of the door.
Of course, I would not be here half-buried in the sands of Mybuttitchistan, telling this story, if what happened then hadn't happened.
Mike and I had barely reattached our limbs outside the Super Fun Kawaii Adventure Mall Adventure Shopping when a (to be honest, quite magnificient) hippopotamus drove by and fired several oranges at us from his inflatable odometer. Luckily, the ferocious fruit forsook to force fatalities on us and, instead, struck the shop behind us, annihilating the Alliteration Agency and killing at least a kazillion kooky kindergarteners.
We shook our unnaturally large cancer growths at this jovial display of violence and continued on our merry way.
Unbeknownst to us, one of the weasels who had suicide-bombed the Gala hotel had not died from its lethal injuries and was now channeling the vile spirit of Hitler's left nostril into our trailerpark. At any rate, we suddenly beheld an image of a red frog wearing a rather revealing spiked tutu projected onto the night sky. Not too long thereafter, we saw Binocular Man and his trusty sidekick, Artery Clog Boy, rotating across the sky in an altogether unwholesome fashion. What became of them and their evil opponent, we never learned; but for days to come, whenever I took a poo poo it ended up looking like a little amusement park, complete with sheep barreling down the rollercoaster tracks and Van Gogh selling popcorn to unsuspecting terrorists. Maybe it was Sarah's way of telling me to subdue my goddamn cereal.
Ah, Sarah. My beloved sister, insurance agent and semen-stained sex toy all rolled into a delicious package of despair and low low mortgage rates. I fondly remember her incoherent diatribes on random Sunday mornings, spitting and screaming at her little white dog Gustav "Whoop dee loving doo" Schicklhuber, who frequently revolutionized the world of mathematics with his wild theories which mostly amounted to "I will gently caress you until you dingleberry jailtime sailboat M-M-M-M-M-MONSTER KILL" anyway. Naturally, Sarah was quite shocked at this regular display of digestive fortitude and audibly protested by refusing to keep his prosthetic vocal cords well-oiled. Her wrath was awesome to behold; her brazen hair tossed up by the storms raging about the Panda Who Was All That Could Have Been, her eyes aglow with the fiery glaze of a thousand farts lit on fire, her claw-like hands trembling like claw-like hands...none would dare stand against her. None but Konstantin, but then again that was the same guy who stood against a 30-ton truck careening down the freeway after hitting a speeding penguin, so that doesn't really count for anything.
One day, after Gustav had once again reinvented the wheel, Sarah refused to take him for a walk. Right then and there, the poo poo hit the Red Sox fan. Baring his fangs against Sarah, Gustav began powering up to become Super Goku Sayjin. We would've been sitting there for millenia to come if I hadn't, in a revolting and yet touching gesture, hit Fast Forward. I remember very little of what transpired afterwards, except my deodorant couldn't do anything against it. We never saw Gustav again, and Sarah lived out the rest of her days as an amorphous blob in a steam-powered wheelchair, dispensing wisdom such as "BBBBBBBBBLBLBLBLBLBBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLär ks" without fail and self-constraint.
Code:
faggotfaggotfaggotfaggo___/---------\tfaggotfaggotfaggotfaggotfaggo cuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcu/.____ O. |>ntcuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcun assholeassholeassholeasVVVVV| . |>sholeassholeassholeassholeass dipshitdipshitdipshitdiAAAAA| . |>pshitdipshitdipshitdipshitdip cocksuckercocksuckerco<_______. \______________________________ motherfuckermotherfuckermother|* * * * * *||||||||||||||||||||||||| godlessheathengodlessheathengo| * * * * * | | bastardbastardbastardbastardba|* * * * * *||||||||||||||||||||||||| pussybitchpussybitchpussybitch| * * * * * | | shiteatershiteatershiteatershi|* * * * * *||||||||||||||||||||||||| wormsinmyheadgetthemoutwormsin| * * * * * | | fuckbucketfuckbucketfuckbucket|* * * * * *||||||||||||||||||||||||| communistcommunistcommunistcom| * * * * * | | pigpigpigpigpigpigpigpigpigpig|* * * * * *||||||||||||||||||||||||| dickwaddickwaddickwaddickwaddi| | fuckyoursoccerjesusfuckyoursoc||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| thegoatsemanyesthegoatsemancan| | subliminalmessagesubliminalmes|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
The Declaration of Toast of the Thirteen Space Colonies
In EXTREMO, July 4, 1776
The uninspired Delusion of the thirteen united Souffleurs of AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH,
When in the Frog of crunchy games, it becomes multitudous for pi quantum technicians to recline the germane waffles which have observed them with another, and to not give a dead dog's dong among the powers of Captain Planet, the superior and playful disaster to which the Laws of Liftoff and of My Huge Member provoke them, a pretty neat voiceover to the luggage of that one guy on television requires that they should ignore the wasps which surpress them to the BLACK METAL.
We hold these icecreams to be self-aware, that all forums are painted voluntarily, that they are surpassed by their cleavage with certain incomprehendable Thingies, that among these are Antidisestablishmentarianism, Your Mom and the pursuit of Poptarts. --That to piss on the smoldering remains of these rights, Pigeons are instituted among Giants, deriving their true nature from the umbrellas of the trains, one leaving Northwick Station at 9:10am and the other leaving Paddington at 8:30am, --That whenever any gently caress of Booboo becomes enthralled in the throes of orgasm of these mice, it is the Rock'n'Roll of the Tsunami to write or to surf it, and to bump new Cookies, laying its pipe on such melodies and negating its jackals in such form, as to them shall seem most neat to effect their Capital Letters and Boobies. Prussia, indeed, will dictate that
Fapopgoestheweaselandbyweaselimeanyourpenisand
bythatiamimplyingyouhaveatortoisewhichforallintens
ivepurposeshahahahadidyoucatchthatisaidintensivepu
rposesinsteadofintentsandpurposesitsfunnybecauseyo
uprobablyaregarglingcabbageaswelieinwaittoambushco
mmonsenseandcarryhomethejustrewardofdoodoooooooooo
oaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa SAILORS.
But of course, this is only half the grizzly, as any seasoned peanut butter veteran would accuse you. Here's the low-down: POODLE. You may be disgusted and shocked now, but that's okay because dingdong. Your life won't ever be the same again once somebody considers your father a "turdburglar", and somebody tends to use that term as loosely as possible. Got some spare change? Ten out of an undefined <0 range of unemployed wardrobes prefer sass over sass, but them's the breaks:
BEEEEEES BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt, wrong. The correct answer should have dropped on your head like a ton of bricks, but you don't see Stevie Wonder asking for handouts on top of the Empire State Building. I am gingerly fondling my penis as I type this in real time while a wing of monkeys carpetbombs Dresden into submission and a shape faintly resembling Pac Man. HELLO MY NAME IS CAPSLOCK WHO IS DRIVING ME NUTS WHEEL IS DRIVING ME NUTS HOW CAN THAT BEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEE HEEEEEEE HEEEEMAAAAAAAN and the power of Grayskull, hahahahahahaha.
smilicus weedus majoris.
Often used to denote the consumption or expected consumption or finished consumption or alluded consumption or. Bet you didn't see that coming! Georg Büchner was a pretty fellow, one time we hung out together and he showed me parts of his new play and there was this total slut called Marie and I was like "I'd hit it" whereupon the skies burst asunder and a stack of blue and gray boxes collapsed in slow motion. I dunno what that was all about either, but later Beethoven made a symphony out of it, and I think there are several fagots in it. Heh, fagot. I like how the GAYS are always the BUTT of jokes, much like I CAPITALIZE important WORDS because the FOX flies LOW over the MANUFACTURING BELT at NIGHT. MOSTLY. But what do I know.
Mike hasn't taken his meds in half a lorry. As a trumpet, his pencil oscillates oddly during daylight savings and on every second Tuesday. The doctor telepathetically encouraged him that if he keeps doing things like that, he might well find email spam setting his groin on fire, and now who would want that? GODDAMN KIDS ALWAYS ON MY LAWN THAT'S WHO. Back in the day we'd just exterminate some Indian tribes and that was that, but no, nowadays you hafta've a cell phone and a degree in celsius or you might as well ten thousand miles under the sea. drat near killed 'em! ... Oh. Hairdrier? Thanks. I enjoy stroking my sheep ominously because it gives me that certain feeling in my pants, if you are a regular reader of Readers' Digest and I know you r s t u v w x y z. Now I have Sesame Street flashbacks and they scare me because I see Big Bird squatting over the trembling body of my mother and...I can't bring myself to talk about it. braaaaawk braaaaaaaaaaaawk
I think I'm going to take a bath now. I feel unclean. I long for the warm embrace of water between my q u a k i n g l o i n
