Ah great, your posteriors made it from Earth and landed safely on Mars.
Assuming you're not suffering from planet lag, let's sausage roll.
He will get the girl, kill the bad guys and save the entire planet.
Apologies for leaving all and sundry hanging like a puppet but chill yer' beans, I'll sew things up in the final chapter.
Assuming you're not suffering from planet lag, let's sausage roll.
Hey baby, just let me control you, love me and I'm obliged to be your slave. Without the bullshit or excess baggage, here I am, fully uncut and without compromise. |
Hmmm, I don't know it's kind of a big decision isn't it? Well, the cowbag at home is boring and broken so this might be my ticket out of this miserable shit pile. Can I let you know in two weeks? |
Two weeks? TWO FUCKING WEEKS? You men, you're all the same, a set of arrogant assholes who don't deserve the privilege of oxygen. Fuck you, fuck you all. Now witness what others have missed. |
I realise my smile is more gormless than a drunk goldfish but compared to the moron on my right, I am the leading light that never goes out. |
(No, no , no, no, no, no, no), together with disturbing, scrambled distress... This is easy peasy holy shit squeezy. |
By accidentally stumbling upon the switch, my tortured soul is finally rid of that atrocious wig. |
I know I'm pretty, drop dead gorgeous and fitter than a steroid junkie but please avert your tragic gaze from my facade. C'mon, do me a quaver as you're making me nervous. |
Groovy dude. Jekyll and Hyde? Split personality? Ho ho ho, green goliath. |
No, don't you do it, don't you dare bring us back together. Why are you doing this, I was happy, we were happy and now --- (fucking bastard). |
Anticipation of detonation is worse than detonation itself. |
SHHHHHHIIIIIITTTTTT!!!! The end is nigh as The Quickening looms high. Time to cry. |
The tide is high but I'm holding on, I'm going to be Blondie's number 1. I'm not the kind of guy to shit his pants, but now I know there's half a chance. |
Somebody thought it breast I should cover up my raspberries... Anyway, don't let you put you off honey because while Mary isn't free; she's available. |
This could be the one to finally turn me on. Tease and taunt him, exploit and distort him. |
Just open the fucking door. She better be exactly what I ordered and not some second hand slut dragged from the nearest dumpster. I know what I want and want it now, I want sex, 'cause I'm Mr Pain. |
Mr Quaid, allow me to introduce the filth of fornication, the dirt and degradation er, (what was your name again sweetheart)? Fucking Me, Fucking You, a-ha. No darling, just him, remember? |
Oh I want to play alright, here's fun, how about a game of Lead in the Head? Well, I suppose you can't blame him for wanting to unload some kind of gun... |
They say hell is where the wicked wallow and the libidinous lament among the midst of their own self-righteous squalor. Adios motherfucker. |
He can't do it, he won't do it, he hasn't got the cojones. Don't sweat it, he's going to bottle it. Oh FFFFUUUUCCCCKKKKK!!!!!! |
In his mind I'll be dead and with no-one to guide him out, he'll be stuck in permanent psychosis. Oh well, shit happens... |
I expected fireworks but this is just ripping the piss. |
No divine power can prevent the inevitable but you can't blame a girl for trying. |
Maybe you can, maybe you can't but squeezing the trigger is just for larks. |
That's a tad inconvenient and I'm sleepy, very --- sleepy. All of a sudden, collapsing like a domino rally looks really comfortable... |
I'm on the floor, floor I hate to dance, you want more, more then here I'm not. This starship was meant to die, let's not do this, one more time. |
Ha! Your magazine was loaded with more blanks than a territorial. A fly caught in a famished spider's web had more of a shout. |
Your 'duel' was rigged and staged more than a reality TV show? |
(Nods sheepishly). |
Humph! What a dick. Jesus, I've gone blind. |
Fuck! Way to go you stupid bitch... |
If you have an iota of human compassion, please, anywhere other than the tits. |
After all the Hans Christian Andersen taunts, revenge is a dish best served colder than a snowman's posing pouch. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! |
FFUUCCKKKIINNGG BBIITTCCHH!!!!! |
Admittedly, my party piece has become boring and the reason behind why I taxi is now obvious. How else do you think I make ends meet and feed my five kids? Oh shit man, I ain't even married. |
I don't profess to be any genius but if I can't send this attachment, how the FUCK am I supposed to remove it? |
How deliciously bizarre, it appears the sudden sensation has somehow transmogrified his physical condition. Simply extraordinary. |
What do you think Mr. Quaid? |
Of what? Oh sorry, you're one ugly motherfucker. |
Sticks and bones may smash my phone but oil paintings will never upset me. |
Sorry pal, I'm shit out of supplies. Before you 'pop off', which donkey is bound to come in for the 5:10 at Aintree? |
Don't get the hump with me, blame my nearest and dearest. Come on old man, be a good boy and say hello to my little friend. |
Apologies for leaving all and sundry hanging like a puppet but chill yer' beans, I'll sew things up in the final chapter.
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