*smiles as a debeardinator ray hits Pulg, leaving a pair of eyes only*
"Now, there will not be trouble. I never pointed it at you, Pulg."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
*The eyes glow redly for a second, then two beams shoot out, striking Sissyl and disintegrating her instantly. Before her vaporisation, she hears a voice in her head saying, "That's what you think, mam'selle"*
:enters scene, seeing two piles of ash, one with two eyeballs upon it:
Oh!
:picking up the eyeballs, he casts a look left, right, and over his shoulder before doing -something- with the eyeballs. His body below the waist is out of frame, but GT is clearly struggling to put something in his pants:
:...the back of his pants:
One, aaand... two! There we go!
:"makes love" to a space whale:
I drop an emotionally distraught space whale on IHIYC from orbit.
Target "GoatToucher" detected engaging in off-planet prohibited activites.
Engaging response protocol; 'We can finally blast that horrid thing without breaking non-interference.'
*GoatToucher is summarily obliterated by a HDBC (Hyper-Dimensional Bombardment Cannon) strike.*
|
*draws the proper sigils and elder signs and star charts and whatnot to contact the great space-kaiju Tintonbulon, which drives Iron Federation Drone and all its confederates within 10 light-years to go insane and shoot each other*
:Xukong trembles a moment, then he and the Black Blade explode:
:their Evil whisps up from their broken forms as a black mist, which coalesces into a column of foul smelling smoke, from which emerges GoatToucher:
:nude:
Ahh... Bracing!
:gingerly walks between chunks of unholy armored champion and Blade of Penultimate Evil shards and strolls down the street toward home:
:nude:
I see a blemish on GoatToucher's forehead, so I grab some industrial grade polishing compound and a buffing wheel made out of high carbonate steel. I am very sad to report that while GoatToucher met his demise during this process, the blemish is STILL THERE. So frustrating!!!
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
I poison JTDV, then strangle him, then shoot him four times, then dump him in a river wrapped in a carpet, then beat him to death with a stick when he gets up. Sometimes the classics are best.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
I fly into space, carrying an angry lion with scythes on its paws, botulism in its gaze and a gluten-rich volcano for a nose, then drop the angry scythe botulo-carb volcano schnozz lion onto Sissyl from a great height.
Sometimes the classics are best.
Indeed.
:sits in a swivel chair, sipping tea from a china cup, while a large laser apparatus emits a beam that slowly creeps up the platform Pulg is strapped to:
You see, what people never seem to think of in this situation is that the laser bisects you groin-first, which means you have a few minutes to consider what is happening to you before the beam gets to your upper torso and your boiling fluids cook your heart as if your chest cavity were a steam-cooker.
:the beam draws closer:
I'm just going to record this, if you don't mind. The sounds you'll make should be... helpful later this evening.
:flicks a switch on a small device:
:explosion from a nearby doorway, a dashing man in a Tuxedo enters, carrying a pistol:
DM: "Good evening, Mr. Toucher! I hope you don't mind if I- GLURK!"
:the man falls off the catwalk and into the lava below. Jambi stands a foot behind, cleaning an ornate dagger:
GT: Feel free to "Glurk!" as much as suits you, whoever you are... were.
:the sizzling of laser on flesh begins, along with other sounds, as well as the smell of burnt hair, ultimately resulting in a bisected Pulg:
GT: :purrs:
|
After that's all finished, I surreptitiously swipe the now-bisected tuxedo Pulg was wearing, then Hide it In GoatToucher's Closet, now mended and with the latter's monogram sewn into the lapel. He inevitably finds the fine thing and chooses to wear it - and is completely unprepared not only for the thorough coating of superglue on its interior, but for the generous internal coating of Pulg's hair, causing the trapped GoatToucher to itch to death.
I start a stampede killing both you, Count Reiner Heydrich, and Simba's Dad. Not only do you die, but I got you in the feels as you remember that scene. <insert evil laugh here>
I produce a child, whose innocent, uncomplicated laughter and joy penetrates IHIYC's jaded exterior, causing his heart to grow three sizes. This, consequently, collapses his lungs and suffocates him.
I introduce GoatToucher to what he thinks is the biggest [REDACTED] he's ever seen, but which is, in fact, a live torpedo.
I stab Pulg through his brain with a pencil in the IRS building. Tax write-off!
|
|
Behold, everyone! My new semi-autonomous heavy-duty flying machine, internally fueled by an efficient combination of alcohol, brimstone, and phlogiston, can be used to deliver parcels, chart terrain, locate missing persons, and-
*flying machine plows into side of IRS building, causing it to collapse with JTDV still inside*
Oh, dear. Well, it could do that, too....
I direct Tvashtri Abdul-Khasis to what he believes is a car wash...only for him to discover (and too late I might add) that it's a car crusher.
P.S. I feel bad for his '73 Pontiac Grand Prix but it's a necessary evil.
:sprays JTD with RAID brand insecticide:
Having mastered the mind-shattering thaumaturgical tour-de-force that is the 'Clown To Pedal Steel Guitar' spell, I cast it, instantly turning IHIYC into a pedal steel guitar. A non-awakened, completely inert pedal steel guitar, ready for a plaintive rendition of 'Willing' or 'It Wasn't God Who Made Honky-Tonk Jesters'.
HAPPY HANUKKAH!
*tosses a single lit candle at GoatToucher, who is so saturated with oil, grease, and Baal-knows-what-else that he bursts into a full-body conflagration that lasts for 8 days*
:in burning, produces a melange of scents including cinnamon, cocoa butter, and the feeling you get when you realize that you forgot a loved one's birthday:
Fortunately, my viscous outer layer of oils, creams, and unguents is thick enough to protect me from harm, which is a shame, really. I quite enjoy a touch of immolation now and again.
:walks up to Pulg, arms wide, and embraces him:
:Pulg is first infected with the innumerable diseases contracted by GT via acts of sexual congress with all variety of entities, objects, and abstract concepts. Moments later, Pulg begins to burn, adding the inimitable aroma of burning hair to the scents permeating the room:
I send GoatToucher a glitter bomb. Not exactly lethal until you consider that GoatToucher often eats glitter and this shiny stuff is made from tiny glass balls filled with mercury.
:tosses a cup of water on R2-FU, which promptly short circuits and bursts into flame:
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
:Goes at GoatToucher with a giant apple-corer. He likes it:
Dwarven dance of death. Light my pants on fire and everything. It's quite the spectacle.
* locks Terrinam in a room with GoatToucher, a box of paper clips, a jar of Vaseline, three sporks, and a bolt of fine silk *
* grabs some popcorn and watches the result through closed-circuit television *
*convinces Nemesis that it's okay forgive herself*
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
*Drowns Sissyl in a bowl of punch.
<later, at the party...>
Party goer: "Mmmmm. This is good. Is the punch spiked?"
Me: "Why, yes...yes it is!"
I abrade AM TARDIGRADE. A slow death, and an exceedingly unpleasant one.
I call upon the power of the Mighty Cosmo to smite the infidel known as Pulg.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
I draw the attention of Deacon Teddy to Cosmo, and, as he is a petty and spiteful entity with no affection for his followers, nature takes its course.
Cosmo, angry at being bothered by a mere mortal, turns his gaze upon GoatToucher. The results are not pretty, to say the least.
I poison Deacon Teddy slowly, slowly with arsenic. A year later, he needs dialysis, and in a few more years, he dies. Just like that.
I pelt IHIYC with thousands of Brussels sprouts.
I drug pulg and chain him up in a chair. I then braid every hair on his body into a massive braid. When he wakes up he is faced with a recording of a weird-looking doll saying generic pseudophilosophy at him, followed by "Now you must use this depilation cream to get loose before a frag bomb in the ceiling explodes. Live or die, make your choice."
Okay...
Just before IHIYC goes into his room and hops into bed, I go there first to hop around and make noise. When he tries to clear the distance to the bed to be safe from grappling, he realizes that the one living under his bed is awake and very, very ready to eat him...
Good news, Sissyl, it's tofu for lunch again!
(Yes - high explosive tofu! Ha! Ha! Ha!)