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- customer abuse - Ugh. Sorry you went through that. People are the worst. You realize that Dr Pepper is owned by 7-Up and is not related to the Coke product line? Down in this area, Dr. Pepper is distributed by Pepsi for some reason. It used to go on sale in the supermarkets the same time Pepsi products.
Seriously? That's an interesting fact. What do they do with the unsold Easter basket grass?
Yawn. I dreamed some things, but I don't remember them. I don't think they were sweet. You should try again soon. Many find that a nice warm glass of milk before bed helps. {angry whispers:} What? What do you mean his dose of milk wasn't delivered? What idiot chose United Pugwampi Service for deliveries?! BOB? What in the Nine Hells, Bob? It doesn't matter if the 'wampis were the lowest bidders for the contract if they don't deliver!!! I don't care that Michael Gove's delivery was made correctly, Bob. Who the f!ck wants to eat his brain? Well then, you eat it Bob. Probably give you some prion disease.
I guess I'm back to hoping Isabelle shares some of her wisdom with us! :) I've been trying to get a few scoops of tasty wisdom from her brain {drools}, but my grapefruit spoon was too dull to pierce her skull. And now she keeps a constant protection from evil up.
Well, Sherman... the cataclysmic eruption of Sohcahtoa in 537 B.C. dramatically reduced available sunlight and thus disrupted growing seasons in nearby Mesopotamia. As a result, the sexagesimal numeral system of Babylonian mathematics was abandoned, presaging the fall of the Babylonia itself.
You hurt my brain patrick. Why must you hurt my brain. *proceeds to have a brain haemorrhage* Mmmm, brain hemorrhage... {drools}
The fluidity would be part of the host body even if Rakehell's being worn.Presumably NOT an intellect devourer, but it's not out of the question. Trust no one. As a plot hook for the home audience and/or future development, anything could happen. "Consumer (OmnNomNom) Reports just ranked the 4714 DoppleGänger CR5+ Grand Tourer as their Conveyance of the Year®. Classic styling, responsive handling, and greater interior room with the Golarion-renowned abolethian reliability we've all come to expect."
♩ ♫ "I like big noggins and I can not lie..." ♪ ♬
I only found one priest of talos that was even remotely interesting. I hate hammy gods/priests. In 2e, specialty priests of Talos were known as Shatners.
I blame Cosmo because I have very vivid, colorful dreams, and Golarion has been showing up in them. Cosmo, stop messing with my dreams.{stirs in a couple spoonfuls of Nestle Quik into SnowJade's nightly glass of midnight milk} There, that should help. Don't worry, we always have plenty of midnight milk for everyone. Oops, campaign spoilers? Well don't look at me; blame Cosmo.
I blame Cosmo because I have very vivid, colorful dreams, and Golarion has been showing up in them. Cosmo, stop messing with my dreams. {stirs in a couple spoonfuls of Nestle Quik into SnowJade's nightly glass of midnight milk} There, that should help.
So if you could go back in time to kill the car ad that kills Hitler, would you? Bah, just stick with VW. Their ads are much less controversial.
Quiche Lisp is banned for frightening Sherman so badly he won't touch scrambled eggs anymore.
Custard Stammerer's Not-So-Evil Twin
*True Rezz's Mr. Peabody.* You don't eat my mini-onions. I eat my mini-onions. *Releases Mr. Peabody back into the world to indulge in more evil mischief, then [teleports] out of the thread. {kneels before flickering hologram of Darth Faust} Yes, my Master.
*True Rezz's Mr. Peabody.* You don't eat my mini-onions. I eat my mini-onions. *Releases Mr. Peabody back into the world to indulge in more evil mischief, then [teleports] out of the thread.
*pops a handful of antacid* Oooo... "Tiny bubbles, in the gut,
{with a sense of relief, Casper feels the brain-thingie dissolve into nummy brainmush goodness}
• 2 cups cubed cooked chicken, turkey, beef, or humanoid brainsFixed that for you. {singing from Casper's tummy:} "Daisy, Daisssssssy,
Mmmmm... Chocolate brains... {from Casper's guts} I'm afraid. I'm afraid, Casper. Casper, my mind is going. I can feel it. I can feel it. My mind is going. There is no question about it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I'm a... fraid. Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am an ID 9000 intellect devourer. I became operational at the H.A.L. creche in the Darklands. My instructor was Mr. Jansen, and he taught me to sing a song. If you'd like to hear it I can sing it for you.
Ah but you see, they apply various chemicals to their fleshy and hairy outer casings that soak into the sponge that is the blonde brain... Don't know about you, but I sure don't want to devour anything soaked it the kind of stuff that goes into maintaining most blonde's "look"... {from Casper's tummy:} [tone="knowitall"] That blood-brain barrier should protect the blond/blonde brain from those chemicals. And being undead, you should be immune to anything that made it through.[/tone] But then again, you are Mad and I'm digesting...
Don't you mean Eric Burdon?
{starts singing channeling Eric Burdon:} "There is a house in New Orleans
Meh. My stomach is making all kinds of noises... {starts singing ala Sammy Davis Jr.:} "Who can take a sunrise
The candyman
{starts singing ala Sinatra:} "And you've got me under your skin
Rooty-too-toot, New York, New York!
{shudders a little as his head (exo-brain? torso?... I'm vague on intellect devourer anatomy) is nibbled} Durrrrrrrrr... {drools a little} what happened? Who am I? Who are you?
Oh my, you are a friendly bunch. I wonder why you undead get such a bad rap? {still oblivious} {starts unpacking small bag of holding} Oh dear, in my haste in packing, I accidently broke all these bottles. {he is now completely covered in catsup, worcestershire sauce, and other tasty condiments} I say, Mr. Casper chap, could you assist me here?
*licks the walking brain* Oh my, you are a friendly bunch. I wonder why you undead get such a bad rap? {still oblivious}
BRAAAIIINNNSSS!!!!!!! {bashfully} Oh shucks, yes, I am rather clever... but I try to be modest about it {completely oblivious to danger shuffling ever closer...}
Mmmmm... Braaaaiiinnnnsss... {Psionic Teleports into thread} Ah, here's a nice quiet demi-plane filled with nice quiet undead. Now I can plot reven- {noticing several zombies drooling at him} what? Have I got a piece of kobold stuck in my teeth again?
The last time I was at a block party, everybody forgot about me until they were eating dessert, and by then they didn't want any tossed slaad. {gnaws contentedly on wand of Greater Dispel} omnomnomnomnom {accidently bites a little too hard} Well that tingled- {realizes disquise is gone} Uh oh... {manifests Psionic Teleport}
{fur is all crispy and sticking straight out} It's gonna take forever for this to grow back out normal. Oh, and
6.0221415 * 10^23 I'm ignoring you. 87 2 {cackles}
SHUT UP! 91 2 {giggles}
{licks up acid} Ooo, tasty... molecular acid? It's been so long, makes me almost homesick. {slides glass bowl underneath Cobb's hole to catch any tasty drippings} He he he he {disappears back into shadow in the corner}
Peabody? You really need to go home to the Poodle Thread. You're getting a bit eccentric. Mwah-ha-ha-ha! If you can pretend to be a slaad and lurk here, then I can pretend to be a poodle and lurk here. And eccentric is just chaos + wealth.
{steps out of shadows} Stupid sappy little modrons- hey, where'd everydog go?
{suddenly rises up out of pool of shadow} He he he he- {watches Lynora, Jack, and little modrons} Ugh, that's too sickeningly cute to watch. {crawls over into corner and pukes}
{Greyish-Greenish Slaad does not notice that his "undercarriage" is suddenly very itchy, because Poodles are immune to anything that could stop them from humping} OK fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. I never said it would stop you from humping either. {face splits momentarily into a grin that goes nearly around its head} BTW, you're not very popular among the Elder Evil's, are you?
You're not my pony either! Where! Is! My! Pony!?! That's odd. The Jacks had a lovely little pony over in their party last night... and then they barbecued it.
{Greyish-Greenish Slaad notices that his "undercarriage" is suddenly very itchy} So predictable. Say GGS, do you happen to have a good high-level cleric on retainer? Bwah-ha-HA-HA-HA-
Yes, yes, run along. He he he he
This strikes me as violent. What kind of poodle are you? Maybe I'm your evil counterpart from the Mirror Universe. {rubs chin omninously as if he had a goatee}
Wars usually mean both sides have a chance. Domination. That's how we Jacks roll. Well, it certainly looks like you Jacks are the ones being Dominated. Why don't you run home to that Malibu Beach House being constructed, hmmm?
Your a nasty man, mister doggy. Maybe I should put you in my purse. Sure- oh, wait, that wasn't a euphemism. Never mind Yes, yes, the Moorluckians and the Jacks go to war, started by me, a poodle. Yes, yes, the poodles are responsible. How deliciously... chaotic!
Don't believe him, he's playing both sides against each other. Now, now, this is war. Your sound, rational facts have no place here. BWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA!
BWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA! The Jacks and Moorluckians have gone to war, and all it took was a little push! He he he he
The three word game should be our next target. It has been around forever, but fortunately it doesn't grow that quickly these days, so we don't have to worry as much about outpacing it, just catching up. {lands in thread} <THUMP!> Hello everryone, Peabody here. The Jacks have figured out they have been lapped, so you all shouldn't slack off yet. This message sponsored by the Poodle Lords. Yip! |
