"Oh, mother of god, heavens to murgatroid, Patrick Swayze on a pogo stick, I saw that rassum frassum trainwreck on Cartoon Network one night when I was wasted on my own particular alcoholic masterpiece - Mountain Dew, Tequila, Mad Dog 20/20, Sunny D, the purple stuff, Surfin' Berry Punch Kool-Aid, Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, Bartles & Jaymes, Turner & Hooch and with a twist of battery acid for extra zest."
He pulls out a knife and stabs the head of the pelt again.
"It was this ungodly hunk of assmunchery. If this is the future, I'll take vanilla. I mean, ROBIN led that team. You throw him and Jubilee into a jar together and shake it up to make them fight, all you'll get is fingernail scratches, a sissy-ass slap fight and then Lifetime Movie-Of-The-Week sob-fests. Seriously, if you're following Burt Ward or Chris O'Donnell into battle, just give it UP."
Suddenly, he reclines in the chair, as it's apparently become a La-Z-Boy.
"Come on, look at that guy - yeah, Speedo-boy, grow up, where black and blue and be all dark and Bluddy, but you're still hitting people with BATONS. You're the damn FLAG CORPS for the Superfriends, and we all know the flag corps is only interesting when hot chicks in short skirts light batons on fire before twirling them around. It's in the handbook."
He snaps his fingers. "Now can we get some hot aliens out here so I can get my Kirk on? Orange chicks, the hawk babe, that funky green chick that got hammered and boffed Plastic Man (whose fruity costume we won't get into right now). Oh, and word of warning, Secret Ambush Man, if you bring out Ma Kent or Granny Goodness, odds are you won't live to see mañana, capisce?"
"Oh, MOTHER of - I KNEW you'd ask me the hardest question ever! Couldn't you just ask me to solve quadratic equations or invent perpetual motion?!"
His hands go to his head as he tries to think on this heavy subject.
"Oak... oaks are might, birch - no, not birch - birch is white and flakey and nobody needs more dandruff in their lives... maple, you get tapped and hot environmental chicks suck out your sap, so that's good, but you might have smelly Ben & Jerry hippies doing it, too... pine, no, too Xmasy and I don't wanna wear tiaras. Maybe that little tree in the Charlie Brown Xmas... no, that's a sad sack life... Tree Rollins? No, third stringer at best."
"Bush, fern, cactus, joshua, Budweiser beer tree, hedge, henge, building a henge are we, that's a fantastic idea...Doubletree, Doublemint - ah! That's it! I'm whatever tree you have to be to get hot twins to giggle at you on roller skates... wait, do I WANT doubleDazzlers? Can't decide... can't decide! Brain aneurysm!"
He barrels over backwards in apparent pain, making a big ruckus with the chair.
Until he springs up and takes a bow.
"Thank you very much, I call that piece 'Agony Of De Feetz.'"
He pulls out a knife and stabs the head of the pelt again.
"It was this ungodly hunk of assmunchery. If this is the future, I'll take vanilla. I mean, ROBIN led that team. You throw him and Jubilee into a jar together and shake it up to make them fight, all you'll get is fingernail scratches, a sissy-ass slap fight and then Lifetime Movie-Of-The-Week sob-fests. Seriously, if you're following Burt Ward or Chris O'Donnell into battle, just give it UP."
Suddenly, he reclines in the chair, as it's apparently become a La-Z-Boy.
"Come on, look at that guy - yeah, Speedo-boy, grow up, where black and blue and be all dark and Bluddy, but you're still hitting people with BATONS. You're the damn FLAG CORPS for the Superfriends, and we all know the flag corps is only interesting when hot chicks in short skirts light batons on fire before twirling them around. It's in the handbook."
He snaps his fingers. "Now can we get some hot aliens out here so I can get my Kirk on? Orange chicks, the hawk babe, that funky green chick that got hammered and boffed Plastic Man (whose fruity costume we won't get into right now). Oh, and word of warning, Secret Ambush Man, if you bring out Ma Kent or Granny Goodness, odds are you won't live to see mañana, capisce?"
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He pauses, for effect.
"If you were a tree, what sort of tree would you be?"
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His hands go to his head as he tries to think on this heavy subject.
"Oak... oaks are might, birch - no, not birch - birch is white and flakey and nobody needs more dandruff in their lives... maple, you get tapped and hot environmental chicks suck out your sap, so that's good, but you might have smelly Ben & Jerry hippies doing it, too... pine, no, too Xmasy and I don't wanna wear tiaras. Maybe that little tree in the Charlie Brown Xmas... no, that's a sad sack life... Tree Rollins? No, third stringer at best."
"Bush, fern, cactus, joshua, Budweiser beer tree, hedge, henge, building a henge are we, that's a fantastic idea...Doubletree, Doublemint - ah! That's it! I'm whatever tree you have to be to get hot twins to giggle at you on roller skates... wait, do I WANT doubleDazzlers? Can't decide... can't decide! Brain aneurysm!"
He barrels over backwards in apparent pain, making a big ruckus with the chair.
Until he springs up and takes a bow.
"Thank you very much, I call that piece 'Agony Of De Feetz.'"
Reply
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