, but I digress. Qwerty finally
went ahead and literally explogasmed
when it became clear that
his minions only spoke Gaelic
with a text-messaging flavour; it
said "Llyke, Ohe Emme Geye"
which was odd because demons
usually use VOiP, especially for
coming out of the closet.
Qwerty dealt out the cards
friends in an odd fashion;
the minions wondered if Qwerty
could actually tell them if
the lottery tickets they bought
with nail and hair clippings
were winners as tarot predicted.
"Screw this!", fumed the confused
cowboy hat wearing poker player,
"y'all gonna hafta ante up
Quickly Qwerty reached into his
massive black studded leather manpurse
and pulled out the largest
hairdryer-over 2' radius shaft-
flamethrower burning hair dry while,
Heathansson wrote: hairdryer-over 2' radius shaft- and pointed its supercharged funnel
the local weatherman, who was
chili peppers on his enchilada
from Taco Hell (layer 478).
"Heeeeelp", wailed the poor wind-buffeted
meteorologist. "My skin is accustomed
to pampering! Now look at
my wrinkly scuzzy face. I
look like a shambling zombiefied
Regis Philbin! Look, my hair
is falling out in scabrous
leprous grease-stained lice-infected shplorky chunks!"
Chunks of schplork......sentient chunks.
The chunks have the power
of Castle Greyskull, but only
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