"Yar, bust it down in me poop deck, mateys! Aarrgh!"
We ran into Cliffy B. He was wearing a very offensive blue sports coat which reflected light all the way to Neptune. The Hair Giant greeted him by calling him "Bud Bundy", but I have to admit that Cliffy doesn't really look like Bud in person. He looks more like how people thought the Devil would appear as back in the 1920's. Or maybe a disco pirate. Yeah, he definitely has pirate-like tendencies. Let's go with "disco pirate".
He was playing "Unreal Tournament" for the Playstation 2, despite the fact that it's for "fagots".
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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