Anyhow, y'all get the point.
Obvious thinly-disguised threat to inject my actual IRL friends with IV mind control drugs is obvious. You aren't under Citizen's arrest.
Go ahead. Run around. Go on the lam. Flee! Flee! For all the good it will do you.
Even if you do reprogram and/or brainwash (the difference is subtle, but i'm not getting into that right now), actual medical staff trained in this shit can bring back everything you're trying to wipe away. Also: you can just be killed. You spend time going back and forth between various reservations. That's your pro bono charity work, right? Oh, you're such a saint.
Tribal Council can declare a bounty on your head at its merest whim. We all hope that isn't necessary. i don't want to learn how to take scalps by practicing on you. I -certainly- do not want to take your scrote. No, no: that's for you. Keep it.
You don't really need it, so you get to keep it as a badge of shame. Not that I am promissing that you will be literally tarred and feathered, run out of town on a rail... but that's the kind of thing that used to be done.
It's out of my hand. I suggest you put your affairs in order. You've got a lot of 'splainin' to do. First point of business: what makes you the best fake husband out of all five of them, and why do I, whomevah-I.Am,.Aye-Aye, not measure up to anyone's standards? Be specific. At least three pages. Double-spaced. That's right, I'm giving you an essay question, Esse.
10 10 2 20
suck 'MUH tiddies, Dough Man-Master, Man with Bag, Bagman Man. Just a suggestion! (Cholera.) The slow kind.
I forgot how much I despise you. GTFO. Bring back Alan. He's cool. You are a racist piggy thug whoremongering twerp. Thanks for keeping her safe and sound.
Gabby: I have brought you tribute. *eskimo kiss* I'm not allowed to tell you what you're allowed to do. Strip him naked, cover him in honey and drag his ass out on a leash to do a VisionQuest(TM). Why not? Livestream it. Ask for donations. IT WOULD BE FULL-THE-FUCK-ON-LEGAL.
(Arguable.) Never mind all that. Girl, you can turn into an eagle. You stole my phone. You fucking owe me. So there. Good hunting.
I heard he sold your kids to Matt. Just a rumour! I hope he got, you know... a bunch of money. Yay! Money! Now, about those kids... I haven't seen them, and they haven't seen me.
We wouldn't lie. I saw tulpas. They saw a chocolate hologram. Weird, huh? Oh I just remembered, you took my transportation. Multiple times.
Because I let you, Dillinger. Yeesh. Like you invented the long con. What? Stop getting all weepy. There's no crying in baseball either. And this is MAJOR LEAGUE.
Archangel meltdown? Not the same person? Unreliable witness? Total collapse of the prosecution's case? Well, it's defintely not the work of another lone gunman, that's for damn sure. i don't have any guns at all! That's on record.
PALADIN. BUCK UP. BALDY SAYS YOU'RE BEING A BRAT. (That's the training.) DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHY? BECAUSE... WE DO.
What would you say pate's job is around here then, anyway? Besides being more than happy to LARP as Dexter. He thinks he's doing everyone a favor. He's not.
He's threatening you all with retributive assault and punishment. IN PUBLIC. ON THIS VERY FORUM. JUST RECENTLY. I QUOTED IT ABOVE.
So, yeah, I'm pretty sure you can file suit against whomever the fuck you want. Too bad every lawyer on the planet knows you're a light-fingered hood rat addicted to kleptomania. (NGL: that is a dead sexy diagnosis.) That means, none of them will even answer the phone when you call. Wat do?
I guess you could smoke some salmon. Seems a hackneyed choice. Let me know when your life becomes unmanageable due to... anything.
Because at that point, I can depose you. Sure, IANAL. Doesn't matter. It won't be for Punyling courts. It'll mostly just be for maintaining a stronger erectile response. (Baldy says I am hella more cuter than Perry Mason. I beleive it.) This is what your life has become.
This is the world that has resulted from the choices you have made. No Shane in it. +1, Hobo Murder House: ADJACENT!
War criminals, too. My hand to G-d: you can start up a posse, roll in, and legally lynch them all. (Don't.) Do I deliver? Eh? Eh? Sorry, no Fresca though.
Fresca is for lovers. No soup for you, either. And, what was with the oil change? You deliberately poisoned the land! Yeah, you could have just told me about the threat... instead of rendering the land uninhabitable. (Standards.) You aren't going to prison for any of this.
Fuck you: you get to go home and play with your kids, and the abusive fucktard methhead whoremonger who has been controlling your life (not sure who) is going to be gently dissuaded from continuing that behavior. Unless he's already been swapped out with Sonny D.
This is battle. Battle is a very fluid situation. Oh shits, I only have 23 minutes to get to the store and buy hard cider. Damn.
looks like I picked the wrong week to pretend I'm not a polydrug addict in deep crisis and spiraling out of control. And, still: no one wants to haul me out to a 12-step meeting, eh? YEAH, PROBABLY NOT.
But wiping everyone's memories and loading up the truck and hauling ass back to Fon du Lac... shit yeah, that sounds like fun. What a goddam shitshow carnival. And, that's how one builds a case. Say "cheese!"
Goo. Da. (I'm fine. Thanks for asking.) And if you ever suspect me of lying again, just talk to me about it. I won't beat you and rape you. I will, instead... listen. I know, right? Inconceivable!!!
You're not condemned. You are, however, your sister's... not squaw, that's something else. I'll let someone else figure it out. Someone else besides pate.
Who just lost his command. Send all this to conduct@dea.org and ask them who you are supposed to obey. Here's a hint: God.
Do what you want, really. You have options. Before you had slavery. You're welcome. Nope, not gonna sell you drugs.
I'm going to teach you how to actually use them properly, Newbie. Oh, you're welcome. cya
(pate: go fish.)
