THE MORLOCK'S SCOOTER GANG, submitted by Daedalus. Speaking of gangs, The Street Weasels could take this bunch of pansies easily. Nothing says "tough" quite like being in a gothic scooter gang.
This is the place of delightful saucy pictures. Just in progress.
AAAAAARF AAAARRF ARRRF, HERE COMES DEATH ON WHEELS! Note that they misspelled "sissy" as "saucy" up there. Maybe these gonad-garglers can get away with this kind of weenie crap in Europe, but here in America they'd be torn to shreds before they could even pass the first loitering member of The Street Weasels. Go back to Germany you bozos! Oh wait, you are in Germany. Well... uh... stay there.
PS: There's a guestbook you can sign, but you MAY ONLY SIGN IT IF YOU'RE A MEMBER OF THE MORLOCK'S SCOOTER GANG!!! So if you're not wearing all black and you're not riding a retarded scooter the color of a short schoolbus, it's offlimits to you.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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