> Bob's wife has had enough of this shit. It is time for her to take control.
> Tell Bob you want a divorce.
> switch back to Byron, ram susie's car through wall of room 1
Glory of Arioch
> Let Balsac get close, then scream the name of your favorite pony as you jam your plastick ponyshank into Balsac's ballsack
> Pull out shank, stab into Balsac's throat repeatedly with vigor while singing "my little pony"
> Take his helmet and complete the ritual. Hail Satan!
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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