Good. Let’s talk about something exciting. Me. Pure and complete gnarly-isms. I’m an F-18 bro. I’ve spent close to the last decade effortlessly and magically converting your tin cans into pure gold. I’ve got magic. I’ve got poetry at my fingertips.
I’m rolling out magic, bro. I exposed people to magic. I have one speed. I have one gear. Go.
Imagine what I would have done with my fire-breathing fists.
A Paladin will tell you he'll lay down his sword. Really? Wow, dude's unarmed. WHACK. Dying is for fools. Amateurs. Here’s your cold coffee. Buh-bye. I dare you to keep up with me. Thought you were messing with one dude? Sorry, Paladin. We’re Vatican assassins. How complicated can it be?
Gnarly gnarlingtons. And gnarly you are not. I’m going to win every moment. I’ve spent close to the last decade effortlessly and magically converting your tin cans into pure gold. Without me, you wouldn't be in the spotlight. I don’t know, winning, anyone? Rhymes with winning? Anyone? Yeah, that would be me.
I'm done. It's on. Bring it.
It's a violent torpedo of truth. I'm living it and I'm winning it! Forget the rest of these sad trolls and their lottery ticket pipe dreams. I've cashed in and my tickets are being bought and everyone's lining up to see the main attraction. Stay tuned to the news because this meteorologist predicts a forecast of heavy snow this spring.
Blow and goddesses. Winning combo, duh!