"For my own part, I am barely able to keep my own shit pushed in. Hold me, Richard.
sob bluh reeeee wawawawawa GARROTE…
At this point, fiat cash is illegal contraband. HONK HONK…
Imagine the locker door pin-ups.
#Legacy conflict: RESOLVED.
COMMAND AWAITING MAGICKAL SINGLES SIGNALS.
Warpath status: SINGING HOT LAVA.
Now, don't get too excited, Commander. I'm still not going to let you suck my dick. Not even a little bit. Not even a taste.
And do you know why? Yeah, you know why. Look, look, read, read: don't worry about it, it's all good, it's on my skin, I can take my answer off the air. You're welcome.
But I'm telling you man… five grand would have been cheaper. A lot cheaper. Just how niggardly are you? I love you man, but… wow! What a maroon. Try not to get yourself killed again, would you? My neighbors are legit starting to freak. I think the ChiComms up the street are thinking of bringing over their Downs Kids to ask for a healing
Not that there's anything wrong with that. All right, good talk. Don't break your nose showing everybody your war face today, you're going to want that nose intact when you're called to set for your close-up later. Fair warning.
Those licensing negotiations can be tough. The fine print giveth and the fine print taketh away."