He's been taking Ecstacy crablets.
so have i
Beans are pretty gross.
Have you.... counted.. how many times he has said it?
Spaketh ye PROPHET of beans:
Because thou hatest BEANS; because thy tongue doth pour scorn upon them, and thy heart cherish secret loathings against them, and thy hands stretch out to do them harm; so shalt thou become as the back end of a Badger in the eyes of the LORD. The Owl shall hoot beneath thy eyebrows, and the Gerbil murmur in thy laundry basket; Men that passeth thou on the highway shall scorn thee, and when thou goest to the Celeritous Victualler for to sup on Sugared Potato Strings and Bland Fowl Lumps, and thou orderest one Dozen Bland Fowl Lumps, thou shalt only receive Eleven, while the harsh laughter of Imps and Night-Gibberers echoeth around thy Secret Parts.
Eleven is the metric dozen.
*has broom* don't mind me just sweeping up the mess.
I do have a deal going atm Reiner. Same one I had for him at your eventual destruction I'll come by and sweep you up too. ;)
That is all you care about.
Even when you are not doing it yourself, you enjoy it.
They do get rather tiresome about it, don't they? My former husband was just as bad, and as for my blasted son...
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Say no more, your grace, I shall take care of it.
*Captures Octave de Malodor and Comte de Malodor, stuffs them both into a cannon and blasts them to Goattoucher's workroom (15 centuries into the future).*
There we are, that should take care of it.
*Notices Countess Clarissa von Schism get staked by Undertaker7, who then proceeds to place her in a tight fitting coffin and buries her deep under the ground.*
Why the hell did he do that?
Eh I only get paid for the clean up.
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telepathy: Father. Help Me! I have been buried alive.
slurp
Scuse me.
Hmm.
Rothchild.
Not the main family line, but one of the cousins if I not mistaken.
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Indeed you are not mistaken, granted that's mainly because I personally destroyed the main family line both in part to punish the last Rothchild descendant and because they sought to become vampire hunting Jyotis.
Regarding as to why they needed punishing, the Rothchild family had a very backwards view of science and evolution. Seriously, I did not become the world's leading palaeobiologist for nothing!
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Say no more, your grace, I shall take care of it.
*Captures Octave de Malodor and Comte de Malodor, stuffs them both into a cannon and blasts them to Goattoucher's workroom (15 centuries into the future).*
There we are, that should take care of it.
*During those 15 centuries, owing to over-indulging in out-of-date industrial floor cleaner while binge-watching 'Bibleman' box-sets, GoatToucher has become a Southern Baptist, and hence the workroom is now full of earnest, shiny young men with proper haircuts and immaculate sports casual clothing, fixing you with basilisk-like stares and lecturing you on Leviticus inbetween the occasional bout of healthy, wholesome sports*
papa, help me
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Shave and a haircut.
Decent price I suppose.
If we gave Pulg a shave and a hair cut would he just disappear?
You would shave, and shave, and cut, and cut, but there would always be the same amount of hair as there was before you started.
Oh, yes you will.
Sat on my head, and hairsprayed firmly in place.
Unless it was industrial strength it won't hold more than a minute.
Hey Mr. Grinch.
That toaster you gave me last year only toasted on one side.
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Your a mean one... Mister Grinch.
It's catchy I'll say that about it.
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Really? Nothing else to say about it?
*Quickly scares off some intruders.*
Why do people always climb up to my cave? Do they like bothering me or do they just have nothing better to do?
*Ponders for moment.*
So, they want to get to know me, do they? They want to spend a little quality time with the Grinch. Well, I guess I could use a little social interaction.
*Grins in the most nastiest manner again.*
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*In a nearby, cozy, little town a group of people ride along a specially designed tandem bicycle and greet a hooded stranger that has come to town.*
Oh yes, um...ho, ho, ho and all that.
*As the bicycle heads away, it breaks apart.*
Goodness, someone has vandalised that vehicle.
*Turns to Schism.*
See, I told you the city's a dangerous place.
*Walks away, with a bow saw behind back.*
I should make a movie... I'll call it Gr. Mrinch!
I should make a movie... I'll call it Gr. Mrinch!
I preferred Blazing Santas.
How about "Yes Virginia, there is a Satan Claus"?