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* trips the Count with my cane as he runs by *
Oh no, you're not getting away that easy, sonny-boy. You're staying and enjoying the fight with the rest of us.
* hits the Count with a snowball *
Can someone help me out here? I can only seem to make snowcubes.
See a doctor.
*Observes snowball fight while quietly preparing for the inevitable escalation*
*Summons snowstorm*
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Aha! So, we meet the legendary Grandpa Wonderbra at last! The Big Bad Wolf of Karazhan has spoken of you most highly and the Invenusable Flytrap was wondering if you would see that it has called a little portion of your illustrious garden home.
*Playfully throws snowball at everyone again, then starts building an "army" of snowmen.*
What's that? Reiner's snowballs?
Thunder girl flying like thunder
others must wonder
what it is like
(OOF!) to be me!
Prometheus and bob was the best however.
I win.
KABLAM!!!!
Beans.
well you can't kill a tardigrade looks like the roach has a potential opponent for the long run.
Yeah that^
No thanks sir I do not want a shave.
{The eyes of Mighty Pogonos glow red with anger. His beard bristles and bolts of lightning shoot out from it, burning Johnny Depp Puppet to a crisp}
Or... am I?
*cuts out the painting from the frame*
*rolls it up*
*whistles*
*Eats painting*
The lead is good for my teeth!
I am a true connor sewer of Art. La Galerie Malodor is famous the world over. Interpol would be very interested in knowing where it is.
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Why did Sissyl and Jokey just do what they did? Now I have to create a new painting all over again!
*Furiously paints an elaborate picture of ten individuals (one of which, is myself) surrounding a giant clam that is open with a naked (but well censored) GoatToucher in it, lying on his left side and looking fabulous.*
There! Now no-one will touch it!
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*sigh*
I dream of painting and then I paint my Dream
-Van gogh
*sigh*
It wasn't crooked the first time. That's just the way the dinkle dangles.
How dare you! I don't paint smut!
*Blinks in disbelief*
It's possible not to paint smut?
And I wouldn't recommend smacking Pulg. He hasn't been de-fleaed since 1956, at the latest.
Smack that fuzzball up, you longshanks know you want to!
Goblins rule!!!
Oh how I missed this.
[i*] waves canes, summoning a massive banquet table *[/i]
And now, it's time to feast.
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Ah, excellent! And just in time to begin the pre-christmas celebrations!
*Takes a seat at the eastern end of the table and starts making reservations for my harem.*
There we are, already to - *notices the Big Bad Wolf of Karazhan, Gorilla Grodd, Yorg Warp-heart and the Invenusable Flytrap at the southern part of the table.* What are you guys doing here?!
*Cancels snowball-war-escalation plans*
*Begins observing potential banquet*
*starts eating one of the chairs*
*provides otyugh ambience to the banquet*
That Van Gogh post got me a full 8 hours. sweet.
Almost the full length of a starry, starry night, eh?
{Wanders past feasters at banquet playing a medley of the greatest hits of 'Chicago' on a hurdy-gurdy}
3 hours on that one. not to to bad.
Little over 5 hours for you that time, my friend.
And then the taste of victory turns to ashes in his mouth. How poignant and tragic.
"Poignant and tragic"? "A**es in his mouth"? Why wasn't I told this was happening?
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...
Ashes, GoatToucher, not...
Oh who am I kidding? You'll find a way to turn the former into the latter.
Oooooh...
Well, that's interesting too, I suppose. So long as there is poignancy and tragedy.
So this is where Our husband goes to steep himself in depravity and dishonour the Sacred Bonds of Baked Matrimony!