Mon–Fri, 10:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. Pacific
18 posts. Alias of Quiche Lisp.
Search Romulan Don Frakkin Rickles's posts:
"Hey, paesano, you don't meddle with a made guy. Unless you want to learn synchronised swimming with concrete boots..."
"You got my meaning, hu ?"
[*banishes EggPie guy with a wave of his stubby hands*]
I win !
Impersonators will be... dealt with.
It's no good to get under the skin of one with... connections. Know what I mean, hmm ?
Hey, what are you doing ? Annoying mi amico Quiche Lisp ?
It's a dangerous thing to do to a man with connections. You got my meaning, hu ? Si capisce ?
I TOLD YOU TO SHUT IT, GNOME ! DIDN'T HEAR ME THE FIRST TIME ? WELL, YOU SHOULD HAVE ! SCREAMIN' AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS IS UNEALTHY, PAESANO ! SOME FRIENDS OF MINE COULD HEAR IT ! THEY KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE ! CAPISCE ?
You're banned for not being connected, bobo !
I'm out of here !
[flies in a Panhard 1924]
Back away, freak ! I have friends in the mob !
Give us a break, hippie, or I break your legs.
Banned for having no life apart his daily trip to the inept barber shop.
You treading on my turf there, bubble airhead !
And I know where you live, now...
Get my meaning, paesano ?
I've heard of this... intarweb of yours, Fawful.
I've spoken to my friends about this In Tar Web fellow (some arabian guy, hu ?).
And soon he will be done, finished.
You don't mess with Don Rickles, pal. Ever. Capice ?
I win ! And don't try to get back at me. I have...friends.
Ranger Alissa is a big meanie. She made Quiche Lisp cried so much in the dark that he fainted.
[draws a sandwich ingeniously carved in the shape of the gun. And then frozen]
Analyse that, Lorraine Braco !
[the frozen gun sandwich fires an actual bullet. Fraud Freud is shot in the head. Insta kill !]
Yeah. Bedtime stories are over ! I'm tough !
Ho, and don't think for a minute I haven't seen you hovering other there, Vicious Chicken of Bristol ! Beware !
He wasn't tough enough. I'm a whole different story, pal. No more mister nice guy !
ALL YOUR THRONGS ARE BELONG TO MYSELF !