I HATE YOU PAGE 128

Bluto finally catches Popeye and beats his face in with a stop sign. No wait, that's just Drew Sellers, the caboose in West Appleton's Man-train. Maybe some day science will perfect the "entire body transplant" he's been needing for so long. Until then, he can continue his full time job of opening up beer bottles with his teeth.

Oh, how sweet, raver love. In a scientific survey I performed five days ago, I determined that it takes two minutes of choking those braindead dickfaced zombies before they start seeing all the pretty colors in their fruity necklaces float before their eyes. It goes even quicker if you make sure to constantly knee them in the balls while doing so. Unfortunately, ravers feel no pain because all the crack they do at raves has burned so many holes in their pea-sized brains.



"ROWWWWRRRRR! It's Meals on Wheels! ROWWWWRRRWWWRR!!!"

Ace cleaner Jack Maynard. No wait, that should read "ass cleaner." My mistake.

GAH!!!

Gothic Gary: "Hurry honey, we must get to the Satan convention before your entire body falls apart and starts flaking off. The Dark One will surly help you."

Morbid Melinda: "Oh Gary, you're the best."

Gothic Gary: "You're the beast."

502 Bad Gateway

502 Bad Gateway


nginx/1.10.1