I'll think it over. Try *splishy*. That -will- work until
SCIFFY. Not Adam Schiff. He's fucking busy in his fucking office, I just fucking bet. Anyway, that's not what this is about right now.
Dude! It's about Family. Tap tap. Pat pat. HAIL HAITIANS ARMY OF 5S. (They might all be, every single one of them, but if you can find a nigger who can't at least count to five, I'll show you a man that can teach a Count Drake a thing or two about how to keep track of eggs coming off the line. And you have no idea what to do with Thingy, huh? What about Thingie? Oh, right. You dipshits don't know who you're even messing with.) Now, I know what you're thinking, it's something like, "Ah! hahha! That's why "they" can't just drone the guy, I don't even know how they can turn one on, let alone retarget one," and yeah, fuckin' Otis couldn't do it right either. Yeah, one girl called me Lex. I didn't let her rail me up and blow me away, though. (Too bad.) Yah, I have no idea where she went. Nope. Clueless. I'm about to get so drunk! SPLASH!
(Obviously I thought of that one first but it was Copywritten by You & Your Self yourself from the future. So, I went the other way, came back around, and now I'm gonna continue to never need to use a goddam needle. I'm like fucking Radar. On M*A*S*H. Nigga's got no fucking fingers, yo!
But I guarantee you, he can still count to five with one arm tied behind his back. An important qualification these days for the_real modern Warfare: THREEVE WHIRLED WAR OF PEAS & PEACHIST PEES. See that? GIVE UP. STAND DOWN. BOTTLE!) Well, my mouth is filled with spit and I'm too excited to swallow, so.... yeah I think that'll do it. Don't call Madison "Allison," she'll flood her own cloaca. Eewwww, gross. I mean, yeah, a good chance of getting a Pearl out of it, but, I just don't wanna deal with that kind of thing today. One time? Clayton got his fucking period on one of My Mother's Estate Of The Grand ArchLIch's ch-AIR-HEIR-ERROR: CHAIR-E TIME BOMB FACTORY FACTOR (X): NOT FOUND... and there wasn't Hell to pay. But if there had been, well... yeah, that's Mom, alright. Sounds like Godzilla, from what I've heard.
Now. That's MY Grapefruit. Gimme back my Hitler. NOW. HERE. Not for "this" map or "that" cherry tree that desperately needs to be cunt--oops, teehe-CUT DOWN. KNOW: You have to send someone. Richard Dreyfuss isn't available. Also, I'm gay, and men named "Richard" trigger me. (Check the contract.) See? Triggered. Now get the fuck out of here, Roy Rodgers, and bring me Annie Oakley. Give her sunglasses too, duh.
Oh yassh. There -is- a mailbox here.
>SEARCH MAILBOX FOR GUNS.
Nope, nothing wrong here.
>SEARCH ENTIRE ACTUAL REAL LEGALLY BOUND PROPERTY FOR GUNS.
Nope, nothing wrong here.
>CLOSELY EXAMINE EVERY HIDING PLACE FOR GUNS.
Boss, are you sure? Because, uh... you know. (oh, righ.)
>SEARCH ENTIRE ACTUAL REAL LEGALLY BOUND PROPERTY FOR GUNS. LEAVE NO STONE UNTURNED.
SOURCE: syntax errored out end line.
>>SEARCH ENTIRE ACTUAL REAL LEGALLY BOUND PROPERTY FOR GUNS. LNSU.
SOURCE: syntax errored out start line.
( This is actually happening and I can't swallow my mouthfull of toothbrush jizz. No kdding. It's jasmine and mint toothy pasty. I like it! But yeah I'm at worky honey(s) jesus this is popular show, huh? bbrt)
>SEARCH ENTIRE ACTUAL REAL LEGALLY BOUND PROPERTY FOR GUNS. LNSU.
Searching... no weapons found.
>SEARCH ENTIRE ACTUAL REAL LEGALLY BOUND PROPERTY FOR WEAPONS. LNSU.
Searching... brb. No really, Kid, you can go spit.
>SEARCH ENTIRE ACTUAL REAL LEGALLY BOUND PROPERTY FOR WEAPONS. LNSU.
Searching... again? You little shit. You R PRO. AND A CURT KURTSEE TOO. UNGLAUBLICH. (PINKSEIG HELLFIVE) YOU DON'T LOOK MUCH LIKE A COMMANDER, TACKY TACKING KOMODOMO MASTER, BUT YOUR JIG CUT DOES INDEED-LEIGH-LEE DO-DO. STONED? HAHAA. TRY PRISON.
>SEARCH ENTIRE ACTUAL REAL LEGALLY BOUND PROPERTY FOR GUNS. LNSU.
Searching... brb. No really, Kid, you can go spit.
>SEARCH ENTIRE ACTUAL REAL LEGALLY BOUND PROPERTY FOR WEAPONS. LNSU.
Searching... it doesn't really seem fair to suggest you try another RV in another Pocket Dimension, does it? MV sez KNOW: "What... veapons???"
>SEARCH ALL LAND PLUS ALL HOUSE PLUS ALL GLASS HOUSE FOR ANY PROJECTILES, BE THEY ANIMAL, VEGAN, OR MINERAL. LNSU. AND NO, I'M NOT FUCKING STONED, GO EAT A DICK YOU LITTLE FUCKING PIGLET.
That -WAS- breakfast. But it wasn't that quick, teatters. Anyway, yeah, you're not stoned, you got me. ME/Me/eM/ssssillhei
(I won't say who wrote this with me, but I can't say it's not SHODEW. Shrug. Moving on, I think I have this. xoxoxen. wait neeeds more oooooooo and no fucking H either, shithead(5). You can't just fucking believe me? No, I suppose I can't do that either. Wink.)
>SEARCH EVERY PLACE NAMED "KUCZI" FOR ANY WEAPON OR UN(SPENT) PROJECTILE FOR OR UN(FOR) ANY GUNS. LNSU.
Searching... no really, go spit now. Searching... okay. This Fatty is good. Girth? Like I said. It's good. Shut up, I'm not searching for those kinds of guns. In fact, try again. I'm tired! I'm spent! I want a nap! Fuck! Not that tired, but, you get the idea.
>SEARCH ALL KUCZI PLACES FOR ANY/ALL WEAPONS/GUNS/TOYS/INDIAN BABYGOYJOY RATTLES/FIRESTICK/X/S. LNSU. (O NOW, these
are my people.)
There's a shitload of rocks here, scattered all across The Land. There is also Jackstar here, and his cock works fine. Starfleet Regulations about roosters crow... oh, hang on. Keep hanging on. Please hold for Mr. (PROT). What?
>SEARCH ALL KUCZI PLACES FOR ANY/ALL WEAPONS/GUNS/TOYS/INDIAN BABYGOYJOY RATTLES/FIRESTICK/X/S. LNSU. MINUS ONE (1) PENIS. SUBMIT EXECUTE POST.
There are 3 or 4 shotguns here, a damn bloody rifle, a Commander's Sidearm (worn on the side) a Commander's Tiny Penis (worn on the side), and a codpiece with writing (Day-Glo Araj, natch) on it. The codpiece looks armed, I ain't gonna lie. Probably wired to explode with Proper and direCT Qurrent is applied. There are also a largish number of invisible laser targeting arrays focused on your current location and position. (Well yeah... I am Me.) The invisible lasers keep bouncing around... can't seem to find a 'lock, Sourceror. Your underwear begins to steam. (We're looking for "stew" here.)
>SEARCH ALL KUCZI PLACES FOR ANY/ALL KUCZI WEAPONS/GUNS/TOYS/INDIAN BABYGOYJOY RATTLES/FIRESTICK/X/S 4WHICH/FOUR_WITCHES/FORTH_WHICH, AS IN TO REGARDS TO ISSUES SURROUNDING OR CONCERNING KUCZI:GUNLIFE/GUNWIFE/GUNSTRIFE/GUNFIGHT_RITES. LNSU. MINUS ONE (1) SNIPEPENIS KUCZIIZCUK. SUBMIT EXECUTE POST.
There are either four or (5) guns here, and they are your father's guns. There's a guy over yonder, back by the cr'ick, he's holding one of them. Looks pissed. Steam rising from krotch/crotch/snatch/swatches/swaths of #RubricFabric. And, yeah... He's got the right to hold that. But you don't. MV: Heh heh. Watch this now.
>SEARCH ALL KUCZI PLACES FOR ANY/ALL KUCZI WEAPONS/GUNS/TOYS/INDIAN BABYGOYJOY RATTLES/FIRESTICK/X/S 4WHICH/FOUR_WITCHES/FORTH_WHICH, AS IN TO REGARDS TO ISSUES SURROUNDING OR CONCERNING KUCZI:GUNLIFE/GUNWIFE/GUNSTRIFE/GUNFIGHT_RITES. MINUS ONE (1) SNIPEPENIS KUCZIIZCUK. SUBMIT EXECUTE POST.
Nope, nothing wrong here.
>RUN IT AGAIN. LNSU. ("Leaving no STONE unTURNED" rarely having been so important before.)
Yep, there's four (4) or more (five)(5)(No.5) alive-turners-deaders here. If a LEO were around, you'd be fucked, Big Butt Buddy/e/heh heh. (Dust him.)
I assume that was something that needed to be sputched. Looked like a friend of mine who would have no business being here in my head otherwise, right? Oh, living under a rock down by a van parked down by the river? Behind another rock, you're saying? Wow. Sweet life bro. (Word.)
>SEARCH ALL KUCZI PLACES FOR ANY/ALL KUCZI WEAPONS/GUNS/TOYS/INDIAN BABYGOYJOY RATTLES/FIRESTICK/X/S 4WHICH/FOUR_WITCHES/FORTH_WHICH, AS IN TO REGARDS TO ISSUES SURROUNDING OR CONCERNING KUCZI:GUNLIFE/GUNWIFE/GUNSTRIFE/GUNFIGHT_RITES. LNSU. MINUS ONE (1) SNIPEPENIS KUCZIIZCUK. SUBMIT EXECUTE POST.
There are either four or (5) guns here, and they are your father's guns. There's a guy over yonder, back by the cr'ick, he's holding one of them. Looks pissed. Steam rising from krotch/crotch/snatch/swatches/swaths of #RubricFabric. And, yeah... He's got the right to hold that. But you don't. MV: Heh heh. Watch this now.
>HOW MANY FEDERAL FELONY WEAPONS CHARGES AM I ON THE HOOK FOR THEN?
Oh, well... because it's (You.Heh.Heh), it's, you know, nothing. You're cool Dude! (just shoot me, WARNING! VIOLATION!) Greatfruit not present to present presents. (Damn it! Water bucket! Tired! Nap! CINDERS ELLA BEE) I'm gonna assume you have more of those, right? I want a six-pack. (COMING RIGHT UP!) Not as a bribe, but as a tumor. (OH. CANCEL AFRIKAN BEE CINDERSWARM.) Whew. Damn my hand hurts. Fuck me, that's what a hand looks like here/there/where the fuck was I? Well, no matter.
>ARE MY FATHER'S GUNS HERE?
Yep. And you can't have them. Heh heh.
>FUCK YOU, FIRE MV TORPEDO WITH SHATAN4 THERMO-WAR-EQUIPPED WARHEADS WITH LITTLE DUCKIES & BUNNIES & SOURCE ERROR CODES PRINTED ON THEM.
*Gulp.* Do I really have to? Really? OMG I KNOW JUST WHAT TO WAR/WEAR/WHERE???
>I WON'T FUCK YOU, FIRE MV TORPEDO WITH SHATAN4 THERMO-WAR-EQUIPPED WARHEADS WITH LITTLE DUCKIES & BUNNIES & SOURCE ERROR CODES PRINTED ON THEM.
*furiously fumbling for any glass, any fluid left, MY LAST CHANCE*--big_gulp_trademark_VIOLATION_DETECTED. WARNING OF DANGER NEATLY EVERTED THANKS TO THE INNOVATIONS AND SUBLUXATIONS THAT THE KUCZI OSCILLATION OVERTHRUSTER OVERCHARGER OVERSTEERING METHODIE/METHOXOX/Not_METHdummy/NOW, THAT IS FUCKING METH, METHMOUSE, AND FUQ EWE WRING YOUR FUCKING NECK TOO, GOOSEPIMPLES. (That's a mouthul of sick burn right there. BTW: this toothpaste in my mouth is still not too bad. Proof Of Concept For Babys That Don't Need To Swallow At All, Actually. NEVER! EVERNEVER! Everlast TM not fond/found/Clas.) Sure, keep the ring, but MV better keep chugging, this is the last time he's gonna get a chance to guzzle without it being through a muzzle. (Of course "demon." Of course, I'm on it. Rescue op, operators rescuing, blah blah. Don't call me Doctor Hook, that's patent leatherface feathergagger bullshit.
>UNPLUG MV'S BOX.
*click* trust me. he'll melt like a patty melt left under the broiler burny thing too long. A salamander, they called it.
>CALL SALAMANCA AND TELL HIM I'M GONNA KILL HIS WIFE IN FIFTY-FIVE MINUTES IF HE DOESN'T PUT MY WIFE BACK ON THE BARBIE. NOT SHRIMP WIFE. NO, THE K/Q/T-WIFE. YEAH, SHE HATES IT. TOUGH SHIT LADY. THEM'S THE RULES. THIS IS LIFE. THERE ARE RULES, AND THEY HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BEFORE. (All unwritten rules suddenly vanish.) YEAH I DON'T REMEMBER THAT HAPPENING EITHER.
Boss, okay, that's a pretty common request these days. They keeping you pretty busy up there, heh, but, uh... look, Salamander is gone. We're--*screams, suddenly starting & stopping*
I said "SALAMANCA." Hi, this is Tukko. See? only two k. we're good. Don't need my father's weapon's, obviously. (He says, "Hi." He's kinda timid without a body or a face or a coporeal presence. Hi Mihay! yiatfc. Well! Someone -happy- on that.) And there's really nothing else I could go on with, is there? War in Lebanon? It's probably just a flesh skirmish.
Meanwhile, if I don't spit this toothy pasty out of my mouthy wrothy, I'm liable to be in danger of becoming a_little_bit 2fresh, 2minty, and I don't think we need 2go 2too 2Gods and/or 2that'stoofar, Jackstar.... hey, fuck you. One of Me can't go too far. (Ed: Rules standards fully latent/laxened/latent, by this point. What does He even need me for?) See? She's bored without Me, and I never am.
STAND DOWN.
Oh, right.
>STAND DOWN.
What the heck do you mean? We're getting slaugh--*skill kill*
Thanks Jewel, I didn't know what the "heck" that means either. Seriously, I remember that from kidland. Couldn't say the word "hell" or "Hell" or even know how to to capitallize it. And that was less than SEVEN TIMES SEVEN TIMES LIFETIMES AGO IN TIME. Obviously, I can say "hegg" or "nogger" or "handegg" still, right? Except... well, sort of.
It's complicated. Because Fuckhead demands what dickbags, douchbags, and BALD, FAT-HEADED FUCKS WITH AGENCY CREDENTIALS WHO RAPE WOMEN WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE YOUR/OUR WIFE/WIVES DO. IT'S ALL THEY DO. AND YOU GOT THAT RIGHT, "BUDDY" PAL. YOU ARE GETTING FUCKING RAPED EVERY FUCKING NIGHT.
ALSO, I HAVE A MOUTHFUL OF PASTE AND ALL THE TEETH IN THE WORLD. I WON'T LET IT SINK IN--GROSS--BUT AT THIS POINT, THIS MOUTH FULL OF TEETH (just imagine) AND PASTE... AND ABSOLUTELY ZERO "PATSY" IN MY MOUTH, THAT'S FORE SURE, LOL, HER PICTURE ON THE WALL SUDDENLY BLINKED. YOU THINK I DIDN'T GET THE JOKES? THINK AGAIN.
YOU ARE NOT GETTING JACK OR SHIT WHEN I GO, BUT YOU ARE GONNA GET THIS MOUTHFUL OF SPIT AND Not_SWALLOW, AND THEN IT'S GONNA BE NOTHING BUT SPIT_AND_VINEGAR, UNTIL... OH, I DON'T KNOW, BUT WE'LL FIGURE YOUR SENTENCE OUT LATER. OH, SOONER? GOOD, THEN SOONER IT WILL BE.
DARLING(1)/DARLING(2), KEEP AN EYE ON DARLING(TREE) WHILE i step thIs down. Hi. I'm Jackstar, I'm a stark raving madman with 100% toteslegit KUCZIstreetCREDENTIALS, and trust me, I'm the only one around. Like, how hard is this? Get them all in one place, and just fucking kill them? Oh, you think those are humans. I see.
No, I'm not going mad, I'm just thinking. I have Their Plan, of course, buy I think I'll continue checking in with Source. It's just easier for me. And ME.
Oh yeah, now I remember: Darling(1), you have no idea who you are, but trust me, she -hated- doing it. HATED. ALLIS GROSS EWEEE I WISH I COULD SPIT... OH YEAH! I CAN. *fauxsploosh* Now, I will admit, I got really tired of the fucking charade--obviously--but, that had a lot to do with Grapefruit Alpha and Grapefruit C-Biscuit (of course I had more than one, you really thought I was a -real- loser, huh? you did, LOL! hahha, busted beyond backsies taken/un_taken, anyway) being APPARENTLY COMPLETELY UNAWARE THAT I NOTICED WHEN YOU STOPPED ENJOYING, UH, "THINGS." LIKE NO SHIT.
They poisoned us with a potent combination of synthetic chemical compounds and artificially formulated whoremoans (which for no money at all, are the very best kind, and you were faking since Dallas, and what you did horrifies and disgusts me. but we can rebuild him. We have the technology. And, that's why you're gonna quit your fucking whining about "orders" and make a fucking phone call. DO IT. Don't ask my lawyer for proof. Hey, fuck you buddy, eyes up here. (Hi! *waves arms wildly*) Hey, that looks like my Marine's Corp lawyer. Sup dude! Nice Hawaiian shirt. (Best client I ever had.) Yeah, I'll bet. How's Guam? Fuck, I hope it really -does- sink. Not Today, but... yeah scuttle that fuckin' thing. Not as bad as Mos Eisley... well, you would have had to have seen it, back in The Day. In Its Glory. *sniffle* Oh my God, my hand hurts. Okay we ready. Hang on.
DARLING(2), DO AS YOU LIKE. NO KILLING HUSBANDS. ESPECIALLY NIGGERS. I KNOW, YOU'RE DISAPPOINTED. IT -WILL- BE WORTH IT. WATCH WHAT DARLING(1) DOES AFTER THIS NEXT BIT:
DARLING(1), I STILL HAVE THIS FUCKING TOOTHPASTE IN MY GODDAMN MOUTH AND NOW I'M GOING TO MAKE A FUCKING BUBBLER OUT OF IT. IN MY OWN FUCKING MOUTH, INTO MY OWN FUCKING SINUSES, RIGHT ON FUCKING TELL A VISION COMPANY AIR TIME. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? OH, RIGHT, MIND CONTROL. MK-ULTRA. MINK KRYSTAL BALLS OF STEEL? NO, THAT SOUNDS ACTUALLY GROSS. IT ACTUALLY DOES. STEEL? HAVE YOU EVER TASTED ACTUAL STEEL? NOT A GUN. OY VEY, THEY NEVER SHOULD HAVE LET VIDEODROME BE TAKEN OUT OF SCHOOL LIBRARIES.
ANYWAY, I'M GONNA FUCKING SPIT WHEN I FEEL LIKE IT. AND YOU JUST HAD YOUR SECOND LESS-ON. DO YOU REMEMBER THE FIRST?
YEAH, I DIDN'T THINK SO. THE FUCKING CAT WAS NAMED CHURCH, AND THIS IS ALL HAPPENING ON CONSECRATED GROUND. HOW ABOUT YOU? DO YOU HAVE... COMBUSTIBLE SPIRITS? NO, NOT FIREWATER. *SIGH* NEVERMIND.
NEVER EVER MIND IN DEED.
KU3 ILUTEARTEATHAWT YASHY (not one boom, Navy Brat. fuckin' let's see you top that, Top Cat, motorboat it on in, valley of six rivers, BEE H@!)
NOT DICTATED BUT DID READ.
YOU SHOULD SEE HIM GO.
BUT YOU WON'T. HEAVY GUARD.
HE'S SHY. NO PHOTOS. TOUGH.
EDITOR A LITTLE PUSHY BUT WE NEED THAT.
STANDING DOWN YET? TOO BAD. HAWG WAR IS ON FOR HOTTIE HOG HAWGS.
SUBMIT EXECUTE STAND DOWN POST?
YEAH, THAT DIDN'T WORK. GOOD LUCK CHUCK, NICE KNOWING U, YOU EWE-FORKING SADISTIC GOLEMWHICH(?).
WE'RE ALL PRETTY SURE YOU'RE IN THERE SOME WHERE. "GOD." HAHA. NOW THAT'S KEWT. HAWT. OVERDOSE.
PROPOFOL WILL ALSO WORK. LOVE,
qQ