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PAGE
179
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The
Amazing Hamsterchild stores his lunch money in
cheek pouches. Which cheeks the pouches are in,
I don't know and don't want to. I caught this
nerdy little greasefuck messing around near my
bushes once last year and I threw an empty Jack
Daniels bottle at him from an upstairs window.
I think it must have damaged the part of his brain
that tells him to stop eating and quit being so
goddamn revolting looking.
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No,
it's not some shitass sculpture made entirely
from bodily waste, although I made the same mistake
when I happened across this subhuman failure in
a yard downtown. Why it was standing on a table
and signalling to the heavens I have no fucking
clue, since it's pretty obvious that god ran out
of patience with this crapmallet a long time ago.
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Overweight
pusblob Argyle MacFatterson dresses up as a cossack
or a Serbian war criminal or a small village or
something and goes to public restaurants with
the aim of terrifying customers into dropping
their food. As you can tell, he's usually successful.
I haven't been able to eat beans since '65 in
Da'Nang when Jimmy Fletcher showed us the horrible
Pants Leg Trick.
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Archeologists
unearth a perfectly-preserved 20th century shithead.
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Johnny
Marston, the Dental Nightmare, about five seconds
after I emptied a can of Mace into his impossibly
hideous face. I followed it up by punching him
in the throat and smashing all the plates in his
house. Some people just have faces that scream
out begging to be beaten flat with a red-hot frying
pan.
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The White Trash Warrior steers his chariot into
battle! This southern-fried fuckstick made far
too easy of a target up there. Just ask the
team of surgeons who spent 14 hours removing
red-hot fragments of glass from his face. He
actually looked less ugly after the incident,
and had the added benefit of having a classic
Chevy rearview mirror "installed"
in his larynx.
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