MR. PAUL BEARER, THE BLOODSHOT LOOK IN MY EYES HAS BEEN MISINTERPRETED AS THE FEAR YOU KNOW BUT IS A QUESTION OF DESTINY WITHIN THE POWER OF THE GODS AND THE WARRIOR. THE LITTLE WARRIORS AND I FEAR NOT YOUR NOTION OF DEATH, AS EACH OF US JOINS ALONG SIDE THE GODS UPON A THRONE OF SKULLS AND MAYHEM AND THE FIRES STOKED BY INTENSITY WITHIN THE BURNING STINKING HEART OF PARTS UNKNOWN. MR. PAUL BEARER YOU SPEAK OF FEAR... BUT THE WARRIOR AND HIS LITTLE WARRIORS FEAR NOT WORMS, FEAR NOT SPIDERS, FEAR NOT RUSTY NAILS, FEAR NOT DRY ICE, FEAR NOT INEPTITUDE, FEAR NOT INSOLUBILITY, FEAR NOT INTERPREPIDATION AND FEAR NOT SPENDING LESS MILKY WAY CREDITS FOR A GREATER UNIVERSAL VALUE. AND ALTHOUGH MY SPACESHIP IDLES MILES ABOVE EARTH TO RETURN THE WARRIOR TO PARTS UNKOWNN I CANNOT REST AND SHALL NOT REST AND REFUSE TO REST, UNTIL THE WORLD BECOMES AWARE THAT THE AT&T-EL-52209 CORDLESS PHONE COMES STANDARD WITH A LARGE LIGHTED DISPLAY AND NUMBER DIRECTORY AS WELL AS A HANDS FREE SPEAKER PHONE SYSTEM. YOU WANT TO TRAMPLE ON BEES MR. PAUL BEARER, INTENSE KILLER BEES, YOU WANT TO TRIFLE WITH THIS FREAK A NATURE THAT ATTACKS AND KEEPS COMING UNTIL THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT THE NEED, THE NEED FOR COMBAT AND A HOUSE WITH ALL THE GLASS SHATTERED FROM THE WINDOWS AND THE SHINGLES ALL BLOWN FROM THE ROOF AND A TERRIBLE SMELL THAT COMES FROM SOMEWHERE THAT YOU CAN’T FIGURE OUT AND YOU CAN’T GET RID OF IT BECAUSE YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE IT'S COMING FROM BECAUSE IT COMING AT YOU FROM EVERY WHICH WAY AT ONCE. LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING MR. PAUL BEARER, THE AT&T-EL-52209 IS AN ULTIMATE VALUE WHEN SET ASIDE IN THE HALLS OF TIME, NOT LOST AND GIVEN BUT BURIED AND TORMENTED, WITH SIMILAR MODEL PHONES IN A COMPARABLE PRICE RANGE. ***SNNNNNNNNARRRRLLLL***
THANK YOU FOR WRITING.
Editor's Note: Warrior is having difficulty posting comments in the comments section. Troubleshooting would be greatly appreciated.
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Fooor the death of meee I see you must return to the fiery black darkness once more. Again you shall be punished eternally in the shadows of the crypt. As I type dry ices floats just above the floor, and it beckons you. The dry ice is calling your name.
ReplyDeleteWe await you, Warrior. We await yooouuu.
All the face paint in your soup can space ship can't hide the scars of a cobra's fangs. 1991? Does that year tremble in the recesses of your cavernous skull?
The fear lives in you. It lives in you still, calling you, the darkness is calling you... and do you know how I know, Warrior?
You know how I know?
Caller I.D. It comes with the at&t el 52209. Every time you get a call their name and address comes right up on the lighted display.
And if you're busy painting your face or teasing your hair, you can set up a remote access to your message retrieval.
My skeleton cobras slither through the dry ice, Warrior, they still taste your bloooood.. ohhh yesss.
And the only odor, (falsetto cough - falsetto cough) will be you rotting alive. Yes, alive and rotting.
But I'll deal with you after I've dealt with an even bigger nuisance. Steve Van Gundy.
The other day was Doppleganger Day and my Facebook friends suggested I look like him. They sent this link... http://sportsblog.projo.com/vangundy0326.jpg
So I'm going to send out a little invitation to Van Gundy.... yes ohhhh yess... an invitation to my parlour.
The only thing I know about the NBA is that when one of those players bites the dust, we have to cut them in half just to fit them in the coffin.
And you know what else?? There is only enough room in my parlour for one man to wear a 3/4 sleeve suit.
Warrior, I hope you have me on speakerphoooonnneeeeee..