we'll all smell that rotten fucker at that point [...] Imagine him, writing his own exorcism. I bet it begins with lunges.)
I was looking at this other post, and I suddenly thought, "Why am I being so coy about saying this g-y's name? He was a fucking vampire beard, Christ, he's probably desperate to hear it out loud without F.A.N.G.S./ex-'stinger as many times as possible now that's maybe alive again for a little while," and then I remembered, "oh yeah, I left all the pounding hashtags in that other thread, next to the half-finished stack of swords to plowstakes, and, let me tell you, if you ever wanted to know why a person would need to transfabricate a simple wooden stake out of a plowstake, instead of a plowshare, well, trust me, if you ever run into a big fat bald-headed Vampire Lord hosebeast with an actual stone cold metal heart made from one of Meryl's old practice Oscars, well, you will either have an enchanted spike on you to trade for his enchantment on your "simple wooden stake" so you can then use a "retarded wouldn't stake" on him, or you will just, like, seriously,
BE DEAD BY SUNDOWN THE NEXT DAY, IT WAS THAT CLOSE YOU NUMBHEAD FUCKS, or, well, I guess you will know exactly what to do, just like I did.
My hand to God, it's not even that hard to even deal with a Vampire Lord. Why even kill one on purpose? They're so cute, thinking they're all that and no one can see right through them, hell, the first one I never even saw until he had already self-immolated, and the second one, I didn't even recognize it until I saw nothing but little cinders in the air shaped like fireworks stars, and then there was this last one, fuck that g-y, he was the worst liar I have ever seen in my life, and if he thought I was gonna fall for any of that fucking bullshit, he must have been high as a kite and more afraid of Chopper sic'ing his balls than me, and now I wonder... "hey, maybe he thought he was gonna poison me with Iocane Powder Version 2! and that's why he wasn't worried," because, well, if I were being poisoned, and this guy poisoned me RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME WHILE I WATCHED HIM WITH AN OBVIOUS DOSE OUT OF AN OBVIOUS MURDER BAG, well, look, let's just face the music:
That might indicate a pattern. Phew. This treaty negotiating is hard work. Now, I know what you're thinking --"Couldn't you have just droned this Vampire Lord?"-- and the answer is, well, I'm kinda God's drone these days, see, look, I'm taking a /bow right in the middle of this narrative breakdown, I can't even stop myself, obvious remote control is obvious -- however, while using a drone to launch a drone at a Vampire Lord does indeed carry that capacity to convey quite an awful lot of nuance... it really doesn't have shit for
gravitas compared to what I did do.
Which, needleless to say, I don't have to remind you, but I will anyway, here goes: I stripped him of his lawful Authority and politely walked away without bothering to invoke The Fifth. I doubt he -ever- saw -any- of this coming... and neither did I, see any of his.
So anyway, good luck Anthony! Cheers to you, for finally writing your own baptism! Yay! Wait? You didn't write a baptism, you wrote an exorcism? Huh. Let me see what you wrote: "BUY ENOUGH COORS TO WASH MY HAIR IN IT, THEN DRINK THE REST AND PASS OUT. THEN I WAKE UP IN HEAVIN. I WANT MY MOMMY. LOVE ME, ANTHONY. P.S. HALP." Oooh-kay.
Do it again. Once more, with feeling. Go on, do it. KILL A VAMPIRE LORD, ANTHONY, LET'S SEE YOU PULL THAT OFF AT NIGHT WHILE LIT UP LIKE THE CHRISTMAS TREE I HAD... well, damn exactly -never.-
I know, it does sound complicated, doesn't it? Here, have another hashtag, that might help clear things up.)
#JOHN MICHAEL SUN
#SON: CINDERS
(Now, everybody, just remember, the goal here is to get Anthony to not just perform his own exorcism, but also... to get him to write it down for us first. So far, we have got him at "Excercising" and "Strangely Mis-Dated Upcoming YouTube Streams From The Past... Cast Forward, In Ten Tor FU TU-RU RAWR!" It is now MID-MAY, people. I don't think he's asking for help hard enough. I want his jogging lightbulb hardware taxed at the exorbitant rate of five mega-watts and a quantity of One (1) Daemon Tool, who I in fact fuckin' recognized.
And now that I've thought it over, you know what? Team Evil just lost a Vampire Lord, and I bet they never saw that coming. Remember? You were told that I slammed shit loads of meth... and, in fact, never have. *SLAM* That was -always- meant to refer to a gavel. My gavel. No, it's not my penis. Well, negotiable, but I would not want to wave my penis around while an understudy jew dictator is waiting on the line, because that would be rude. -And- he might learn some words in Sourceror's Tongue, and then I'm really in trouble. They'll add "taught a jew to read without Proper Authority" and I'll be totesbones, because, let's face it: I kinda already did, and it sure wasn't Authorized. (Didn't mean to, though... so that's probably why I didn't get charged -or- lose privileges.
And, in fact: I gained one. /preen. Might have just been a boon, though. Whatever, as long as there is no gayass involved, I'm happy. What? No, geas. What do you mean, you never heard of it? Fuck you, now go get me some smack before I start eating all your fuckin' goldfish. Yep, there he goes, look at that cracker run.)