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161
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Ryan
Parker practices his cat-fucking position.
"ROWWWWRRRR!
How the hell would you know what a cat-fucking
position looks like, you brain addled shitsock?
RAWWWRRR!"
Don't
fucking start with me, Uglycat, or I'll jam a
pair of knitting needles into your Godless eyesockets.
"ROWWWWRRRR!
Bring it on, you fat old fuck! RAWWWRRR!"
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Pillsbury
the Satanic Chef prepares another batch of Troll
House cookies.
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"I'm
thinking of a number between 1 and 1000."
Gah,
fuck that, her bloated skull is so huge, I bet
she's thinking of EVERY goddamn number between
1 and 1000.
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He
used to command a spaceship... now he can barely
command his bowels. Oh poor, poor little Captain
Ham Salad.
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Her
family calls her "Elizabeth." I call
her "The Human Bottle Opener." I once
had a globe like that one in the background. I
think some little shit down the street stole it
when I had a garage sale. I think he's the same
moron who took the head off my garden hose out
back. If I ever catch that filthy little SOB,
I'm going to light her body on fire and FedEx
it to NAMBLA.
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JACKASS
ON LEFT: Getting the power up.
MENTAL
MIDGET ON RIGHT: Winning the game.
HANDSOME
VET BEHIND THE COUCH: Reloading the shotgun.
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