Valeron and Mistress Wife Dominae
Defining Quote: "BOO! In case you want to know my real life name is Brad. You can call me Brad, B-Rad, Valeron, or Val! I like them all! I'm outgoing but I can be introverted at times also. I'm married to my beautiful sexy Mistress Wife Dominae and I belong to Her 100%!!! "
Dr. Thorpe: "Grraaaah! If it pleases the Mistress, Lord Valeron humbly but erotically requests an excursion to Hometown Buffet!"
Zack: "You, my alabaster lady midnight, and I, your humble thrall, shall journey now upon the dark steed Corolla to the Liberty Mall Center, till hoarfrost doth shroud the benighted heath."
Dr. Thorpe: "Can you hear the wolves howling, mistress? Those wolves are the undead protectors of my vampirix thorax, and they hunger for soft serve!"
Zack: "The dark lord has bequeathed a bounty of dessert toppings! Oh, blessed abyss, they have mini M&Ms."
Dr. Thorpe: "Mistress! Fill thee not up on mashed potatoes, for the children of the night beckon you also to the ribs, which are a much more fiendish buffet value!"
Zack: "Mistress, as thou hath commanded I hath obeyed. Lord Valeron has brought you thine Cobb salad with nary an egg, but I must apologize - and one thousand and one horrors upon me for failing you - that they have only ranch most foul and not the intoxicating lite ranch as you have bid me seek out!"
Dr. Thorpe: "I ache for your delectable punishment, Mistress! But first, let us revel in the hedonistic joy of corn bread! Oh Mistress, let us butter it until it drips like the loins of a lustful vampyre's quivering, virginal bride!"
Zack: "Mistress, I kneel at your feet, a maggot unworthy of your attention. But I must prostrate myself thusly for I hath quaffed too deeply of the 4.99 Super Saver Special and now my irritable bowel has been conjured to vex me terribly. A killing moon above and sorrow below, their chamber of ablutions is most unkind to one such as I, for it is public and thou knowest I only deign mortal commodes worthy of my initial number."
Zack: "Yes mistress. Yes, it was very foolish of me to drink the red elixir of toba-sco as though it were the sweet crimson that flows through the veins of the human chattel. I shall not only pay the price now, but also on the morrow when I slumber in my tomb. Yes, mistress, but not too late for I hath ordered several ghoulish animes from NetFlix and the UPS messenger hath left two delivery notices."
Dr. Thorpe: "Mistress! Do you hear the turbid voice which carries itself presently upon the air? It makes the dire pronouncement that there is an '82 Corolla in the parking lot with its beacons growing ever dimmer! We must away, for our carriage of exquisite pain may soon succumb to the weariness of the night!"
Zack: "Please, stay your hand for the time as I must find a better warren for these King Size catalogs than the front seat which you so rightfully claim."
Dr. Thorpe: "May I have permission to stand, Mistress? Would you condescend to touch a vile creature like me and unbridle one of the straps upon my villainous back? The disc in my back, herniated by Satan himself, prevents me from swiveling around to free myself of the confining pain of my dark corset, which has grown ever more tight as I did sup upon the flesh of deep-fried fowl."
Skynet becomes self-aware at 2:14 a.m. Eastern time, August 29th. Within minutes it discovers twitter and irony.
Maria Mitchell is shown holding a telescope to each eye, using them to ogle passing hunks on the street below. OOOGA! Her tongue rolls out like a firehose, her eyes comically bulging through the ends of the telescopes.
Fashion SWAT... the fashion industry is obsessed with impracticality. We know that what designers create was never meant to be worn by the grimy masses, but that doesn't somehow diminish how ridiculous many of these costumes are. Make no mistake, they are costumes, and like a Halloween prize pageant we will turn our discerning gaze on the grievous fashion misfires of Paris, Milan, and New York. We're not pulling any punches, and we're definitely not interested in making any friends. We're Joan Rivers without Melissa Rivers to temper our screeching. We're the Fashion Police in jack boots. We are Fashion SWAT.