"I'm thinking about performing surgery on myself with broken beer bottles and rusty garden tools, and I'm scared..."
And just where the hell is the flag for tuberculosis?
Dumb doctors with their oaths and pills and that headlight strapped to their heads. Does that thing even do anything? What a crock, I know better!
Ass, asset. I get it. THIS SHIT IS BANKRUPT.
Why don't these guys just drive around a graveyard for a while? Or find the place they filmed the video for Thriller and see if any of the zombie dancer guys are still hanging around looking for more work.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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