Fred says:
Period.....
Sebastian says:
yeah
Sebastian says:
same with me...
Fred says:
Want a tampon?
Sebastian says:
nah, I drip dry
Sunday 19 October 2008
Tuesday 14 October 2008
The Porn Revolution of 2008
Tea: Ahh, Trebor make nice sweets, I think I'll let them off when the revolution comes...
Fred: The revolution that will sweep aside the credit crunch with something much more meaningful?
Fred: Because I'd like to see you keep middle aged bankers interested in something other than fluxuating numbers and Thai brides
Fred: Unless you propose a revolution in porn?
Fred: Guilt free would be the essential necessary change
Tea: What would a revoloution in porn entail? O_o
Fred: I'm not sure, but I seem to recall the last revolution you proposed was a Romantic one and I just don't see it working
Fred: Perhaps making porn downloadable without the threat of viruses
Fred: (What the hell am I on about?)
Tea: I've pretty much conceded all hope of a revolution now, in all honesty... people are too rubbish (a small colony of not rubbish people would be nice though...even a flat??). So...what will be the outcome of this wonderous, virus-free world of porn?
Fred: And guilt free*
Tea: Of course ^^
Fred: I can only imagine that the outcome would be a world of wankers, but we're at that stage now so.... well.... a world of perpetual wankers?
Tea: Sounds...beautiful and frightening...? Not very productive, but wonderful nonetheless. I want to make a pun somewhere but my wit's failing ):
Fred: I think most wit fades in the face of perpetual masturbation
Fred: A kleenex moment perhaps?
Fred: Oh, haha, there we go
Tea: I bow to you sir!
Fred: And while the world masturbates you'll have a flat of not rubbish people masturbating their minds, yes?
Tea: Yep, guilt-free mental masturbation! Although we'd probably just spend the time complaining about the affect on the climate of all the tissue used >.<
Fred: Paper can be recycled.... the dripping, life potent paper...
Fred: The revolution that will sweep aside the credit crunch with something much more meaningful?
Fred: Because I'd like to see you keep middle aged bankers interested in something other than fluxuating numbers and Thai brides
Fred: Unless you propose a revolution in porn?
Fred: Guilt free would be the essential necessary change
Tea: What would a revoloution in porn entail? O_o
Fred: I'm not sure, but I seem to recall the last revolution you proposed was a Romantic one and I just don't see it working
Fred: Perhaps making porn downloadable without the threat of viruses
Fred: (What the hell am I on about?)
Tea: I've pretty much conceded all hope of a revolution now, in all honesty... people are too rubbish (a small colony of not rubbish people would be nice though...even a flat??). So...what will be the outcome of this wonderous, virus-free world of porn?
Fred: And guilt free*
Tea: Of course ^^
Fred: I can only imagine that the outcome would be a world of wankers, but we're at that stage now so.... well.... a world of perpetual wankers?
Tea: Sounds...beautiful and frightening...? Not very productive, but wonderful nonetheless. I want to make a pun somewhere but my wit's failing ):
Fred: I think most wit fades in the face of perpetual masturbation
Fred: A kleenex moment perhaps?
Fred: Oh, haha, there we go
Tea: I bow to you sir!
Fred: And while the world masturbates you'll have a flat of not rubbish people masturbating their minds, yes?
Tea: Yep, guilt-free mental masturbation! Although we'd probably just spend the time complaining about the affect on the climate of all the tissue used >.<
Fred: Paper can be recycled.... the dripping, life potent paper...
Wednesday 8 October 2008
Raping Hot Hunnies
Eric Monday says: so yeah how do you talk to some random chick who's name you don't even know and you've never even spoken to?
Eric Monday says: coz let me tell you
Eric Monday says: this person in question is raping hot
Beatrix says: Well you go up to her and say,
Beatrix says: "Hi, my name's Eric."
Beatrix says: Shake her hand.
Beatrix says: Old fashioned like.
Eric Monday says: that would seem so weird
Eric Monday says: though if I did it as if it was intended weird
Eric Monday says: like
Eric Monday says: as if I had a monocle
Eric Monday says: yeah
Eric Monday says: good idea
Eric Monday says: i'll do that tommorow
Eric Monday says: we'll see who wants to bang who
Beatrix says: Awesome. I'm just trying to think of what Sebastian does.
Eric Monday says: Sebastian's naturally charming
Eric Monday says: even I, not being gay, would tap that
Eric Monday says: if you don't mind my saying
Beatrix says: He's not.
Beatrix says: He didn't use to be.
Beatrix says: I don't mind at all.
Eric Monday says: i've known him for quite a while
Eric Monday says: I don't remember him not being charming
Beatrix says: He says before year nine he wasn't.
Eric Monday says: though sometimes I can't tell if he's being serious or not
Eric Monday says: but apart from that
Eric Monday says: yeah
Eric Monday says: hot
Eric Monday says: nice one
Eric Monday says: not that i've an opinion, not being gay
Eric Monday says: *cough*
Beatrix says: No, well...
Beatrix says: Even straight men fancy Sebastian.
Beatrix says: Well known fact.
Eric Monday says: mm
Eric Monday says: so you say he's not naturally charming, and then you say that even straight guys fancy him
Eric Monday says: surely straight guys wouldn't fancy him if he wasn't naturally charming
Eric Monday says: damn it this pillage is taking forever to go!
Eric Monday says: coz let me tell you
Eric Monday says: this person in question is raping hot
Beatrix says: Well you go up to her and say,
Beatrix says: "Hi, my name's Eric."
Beatrix says: Shake her hand.
Beatrix says: Old fashioned like.
Eric Monday says: that would seem so weird
Eric Monday says: though if I did it as if it was intended weird
Eric Monday says: like
Eric Monday says: as if I had a monocle
Eric Monday says: yeah
Eric Monday says: good idea
Eric Monday says: i'll do that tommorow
Eric Monday says: we'll see who wants to bang who
Beatrix says: Awesome. I'm just trying to think of what Sebastian does.
Eric Monday says: Sebastian's naturally charming
Eric Monday says: even I, not being gay, would tap that
Eric Monday says: if you don't mind my saying
Beatrix says: He's not.
Beatrix says: He didn't use to be.
Beatrix says: I don't mind at all.
Eric Monday says: i've known him for quite a while
Eric Monday says: I don't remember him not being charming
Beatrix says: He says before year nine he wasn't.
Eric Monday says: though sometimes I can't tell if he's being serious or not
Eric Monday says: but apart from that
Eric Monday says: yeah
Eric Monday says: hot
Eric Monday says: nice one
Eric Monday says: not that i've an opinion, not being gay
Eric Monday says: *cough*
Beatrix says: No, well...
Beatrix says: Even straight men fancy Sebastian.
Beatrix says: Well known fact.
Eric Monday says: mm
Eric Monday says: so you say he's not naturally charming, and then you say that even straight guys fancy him
Eric Monday says: surely straight guys wouldn't fancy him if he wasn't naturally charming
Eric Monday says: damn it this pillage is taking forever to go!
Captain NippleCaps
Imogen: besides, I already made her into a crispy burnt AIDS infected guilty corpse.
Fred: Yeah... you're good at that...
Fred: Or taking blood
Fred: Or making people old and haggared
Imogen: Yah
Imogen: not so secret talent
Fred: It's such a destructive talent that I'm sure it doesn't need to be secret
Imogen: Nah, what if the government were to find out?
Imogen: Needless to say they'd use me for their own evil plans
Fred: You might get paid for your good work?
Imogen: The X Men have taught us that much.
Fred: The X-men sold out.
Imogen: Oooh, money!
Imogen: *becomes government slag*
Fred: Do you have an overly revealing tight colourful costume?
Imogen: Overly revealing is an understatement (my superhero name is Captain Nipple Caps)
Fred: That name makes me happy somehow
Imogen: I know, it just sounds fun, doesn't it?
Fred: It does, I picture you firing aids infected milk all over little kids
Imogen: Fun to say, although now my family think I'm crazy: "CaptainnipplecapsCaptainnipplecapsCaptainnipplecaps."
Fred: We should rights reserve it and trademark it!
Imogen: I'm not sure I should fire milk from my nipples.
Fred: But it'd be fun
Imogen: that might involve removing my nipple caps
Imogen: then I'd just be Captain Naked
Fred: You could have firing holes?
Imogen: Hmm...
Imogen: Alright. And my nipple caps have bullseyes on them to indicate my skill on the firing range.
Fred: Also!
Fred: The rest of your costume should be skin coloured so people are like "Is she naked? "
Fred: Like the psychik one in Xmen or Nausica
Imogen: What do you mean, "the rest of my costume"?!
Fred: Erm, I assume there's more...? Right? More than the nipple caps?
Imogen: ...
Fred: No even something for the... you know... junk?
Imogen: ...
Imogen: Wait.
Imogen: Hang on, junk?!
Imogen: I am a LADY
Fred: Your lady junk?
Imogen: Everyone knows the following entirely true and in no way made up by me facts about LADIES:
Imogen: 1: Ladies have no genitals (i.e. JUNK)
Imogen: 2: Ladies do not: i)urinate
Imogen: ii) excrete
Imogen: iii) produce gas, either from their behinds nor mouths
Fred: What about their breasts?
Imogen: 3: Ladies know everything you are thinking, and think you are very dirty.
Imogen: Breasts?
Imogen: Well we have those.
Imogen: But merely as shelves on which we keep various ladylike apparatus
Imogen: such as combs... and..uh...
Fred: Tampons?
Imogen: Eurgh
Imogen: Ladies don't have periods.
Fred: What about women?
Imogen: They do.
Imogen: THEY ARE IMMENSELY PAINFUL AND LAST FOREVER
Imogen: But Ladies don't
Fred: Imogen, I love you ^^
Imogen: I love bicycles.
Imogen: Not the usual kind.
Imogen: The ones with a low seat and high handlebars and a basket on the front.
Fred: Not your lord Jesus? (me)
Imogen: I love you too, but only because you remind me slightly of a bicycle.
Fred: *sigh*
Fred: I don't have wheels, Imogen, or spokes!
Imogen: Bicycles are great though.
Imogen: You have hands
Imogen: Hands and handlebars aren't too far from each other...
Fred: But, theoretically speaking, I'd need to use them to hold onto wheels!
Imogen: You need to think more metaphorically?
Fred: You know I struggle metaphorically
Imogen: Then you have not lived!
Fred: Yeah... you're good at that...
Fred: Or taking blood
Fred: Or making people old and haggared
Imogen: Yah
Imogen: not so secret talent
Fred: It's such a destructive talent that I'm sure it doesn't need to be secret
Imogen: Nah, what if the government were to find out?
Imogen: Needless to say they'd use me for their own evil plans
Fred: You might get paid for your good work?
Imogen: The X Men have taught us that much.
Fred: The X-men sold out.
Imogen: Oooh, money!
Imogen: *becomes government slag*
Fred: Do you have an overly revealing tight colourful costume?
Imogen: Overly revealing is an understatement (my superhero name is Captain Nipple Caps)
Fred: That name makes me happy somehow
Imogen: I know, it just sounds fun, doesn't it?
Fred: It does, I picture you firing aids infected milk all over little kids
Imogen: Fun to say, although now my family think I'm crazy: "CaptainnipplecapsCaptainnipplecapsCaptainnipplecaps."
Fred: We should rights reserve it and trademark it!
Imogen: I'm not sure I should fire milk from my nipples.
Fred: But it'd be fun
Imogen: that might involve removing my nipple caps
Imogen: then I'd just be Captain Naked
Fred: You could have firing holes?
Imogen: Hmm...
Imogen: Alright. And my nipple caps have bullseyes on them to indicate my skill on the firing range.
Fred: Also!
Fred: The rest of your costume should be skin coloured so people are like "Is she naked? "
Fred: Like the psychik one in Xmen or Nausica
Imogen: What do you mean, "the rest of my costume"?!
Fred: Erm, I assume there's more...? Right? More than the nipple caps?
Imogen: ...
Fred: No even something for the... you know... junk?
Imogen: ...
Imogen: Wait.
Imogen: Hang on, junk?!
Imogen: I am a LADY
Fred: Your lady junk?
Imogen: Everyone knows the following entirely true and in no way made up by me facts about LADIES:
Imogen: 1: Ladies have no genitals (i.e. JUNK)
Imogen: 2: Ladies do not: i)urinate
Imogen: ii) excrete
Imogen: iii) produce gas, either from their behinds nor mouths
Fred: What about their breasts?
Imogen: 3: Ladies know everything you are thinking, and think you are very dirty.
Imogen: Breasts?
Imogen: Well we have those.
Imogen: But merely as shelves on which we keep various ladylike apparatus
Imogen: such as combs... and..uh...
Fred: Tampons?
Imogen: Eurgh
Imogen: Ladies don't have periods.
Fred: What about women?
Imogen: They do.
Imogen: THEY ARE IMMENSELY PAINFUL AND LAST FOREVER
Imogen: But Ladies don't
Fred: Imogen, I love you ^^
Imogen: I love bicycles.
Imogen: Not the usual kind.
Imogen: The ones with a low seat and high handlebars and a basket on the front.
Fred: Not your lord Jesus? (me)
Imogen: I love you too, but only because you remind me slightly of a bicycle.
Fred: *sigh*
Fred: I don't have wheels, Imogen, or spokes!
Imogen: Bicycles are great though.
Imogen: You have hands
Imogen: Hands and handlebars aren't too far from each other...
Fred: But, theoretically speaking, I'd need to use them to hold onto wheels!
Imogen: You need to think more metaphorically?
Fred: You know I struggle metaphorically
Imogen: Then you have not lived!
Alas, Sweet Olaf
Imogen: I would like to marriage you.
Imogen: I'm so lonely.
Imogen: *Has orgy*
Imogen: :P
Beatrix: Marriage me?
Imogen: Indeed, my sweet and delectable dirgybird
Imogen: *caresses cheek*
Beatrix: D:
Beatrix: What's got into you woman??
Beatrix: *slaps you*
Imogen: I'm sorry, WOMAN?!
Imogen: What on earth has got into YOU?!
Beatrix: I'm a male chauvinist now :(
Imogen: I've only been inserting my oversized member into you for the last TWELVE years.
Imogen: You of all people should know I'm all man.
Beatrix: D:
Beatrix: That was your MEMBER?
Beatrix: I thought it was your leg
Imogen: *inserts oversized member*
Imogen: Well sometimes it was.
Imogen: But MOSTLY it was my member.
Beatrix: It felt like a leg...
Beatrix: *suspicious*
Beatrix: It even sounded like a leg...
Imogen: I have a condition. Imogen: I don't like to talk about it.
Imogen: *withdraws misshapen member with foot-like kink in it, wearing a bizarre kind of thrid trouser leg*
Imogen: *third
Beatrix: D: D: D:
Beatrix: Oh God...
Beatrix: That's so...
Beatrix: Erotic.
Imogen: You know it, baby.
Imogen: I stiched the trouser leg myself :)
Imogen: *stitched
Imogen: It took me three weeks and I ran out of thread and had to use my own hair...
Imogen: All of it.
Beatrix: .....
Beatrix: I don't want to talk to you any more.
Imogen: *plays sad music on a tiny mandolin*
Imogen: Don't say that, my grimsby-snidge
Imogen: Our love is forever. *handcuffs you to bedrail*
Beatrix: Oh shi- Beatrix: Let me go!
Imogen: What's that, my tasty gristle?
Imogen: You want us to be together until the end of time?
Beatrix: LET ME GO!
Beatrix: *pulls at chains*
Beatrix: Aargh!
Imogen: I don't know why you're pulling at those chains, my wickedness.
Imogen: I distinctly remember handcuffing you to our connubial bed.
Beatrix: Because I'm trying to get free :@
Imogen: But... Well carry on then.
Imogen: *chains are the only thing suspending bed from boiling pit of lava*
Beatrix: Oh SHI-
Imogen: *filled with slugs. Dead ones.*
Beatrix: *clings onto bed railings*
Imogen: *Watches detachedly as bed falls from weakened chains into lava*
Imogen: *calls down* Don't worry, my crispy corpse! I'll still love oyu!
Imogen: *you
Beatrix: *is a charred corpse*
Beatrix: Happy now?!
Imogen: Yus ^ ^
Imogen: *faps*
Beatrix: D:
Beatrix: Stop that
Beatrix: I'm still sore there D:
Imogen: Fair enough
Imogen: I'm done now anyway. *Mooches off for tissue*
Beatrix: Oh, what's the point?
Beatrix: Leave it there, it might help heal the wounds
Imogen: I doubt it. But I'm sure you know best. *rubs AIDS infected semen into wounds*
Beatrix: OH SHI-
Beatrix: You could've told me :(
Imogen: Now you have to stay with me forver :)
Imogen: *forever
Imogen: Noone else will want you because you are horribly burnt and have aids and you also smell.
Beatrix: I do?
Beatrix: Why?
Beatrix: *sniffs self*
Beatrix: I think I smell okay...
Imogen: That is probably because your nose is burnt off.
Imogen: You smell like a chorizo.
Beatrix: Mm :) Tasty.
Imogen: Exactly *summons the wolves*
Imogen: Awowowowowowwoooooooooolflikenoises.
Beatrix: Woah....
Beatrix: Wait
Beatrix: We can talk this through...
Imogen: Hey, there's Olaf now!
Beatrix: *bites out chunk of own burnt flesh*
Imogen: I bet my offer of eternal love and sticky companionship is looking pretty appealing right now...
Beatrix: *spits it at Olaf's mouth*
Beatrix: *gives him AIDs*
Beatrix: *Olaf dies*
Imogen: That's terrible!
Imogen: He was Fred's life partner!
Beatrix: *feels guilty*
Beatrix: Uh...
Beatrix: We could stuff him?
Imogen: Why would you do such a thing?!
Beatrix: It's kind of like my dead stuffed husband only a little less weird?
Imogen: I only invited him round for a bit of a stroke and a biscuit!
Imogen: Now look at him!
Imogen: What, do you think Fred won't notice?!
Beatrix: You invited him over to EAT ME ALIVE!
Beatrix: You can't possibly call that 'stroke and a biscuit'
Imogen: THAT'S NOT WHAT "Awowowowowowwoooooooooolflikenoises" MEANS!
Beatrix: *scowls*
Beatrix: I don't believe you.
Imogen: "Awowowowowowwoooooooooolflikenoises" Means "Hey Olaf, my furry amigo, come round for a nice stroke and a biscuit, and meet my crispy corpse wife, she's really nice and I'm sure you'll be friends!"
Imogen: *wolves, attracted to the noise, come close and are stroked, and eat biscuits*
Imogen: *they politely shake your hand*
Beatrix: Thanks, guys...
Imogen: You know, this is a much nicer way of thanking them than the way you THANKED OLAF.
Imogen: ALthough I think I mean "THANKED" notethesarcasticquotationmarks!
Beatrix: Look, I'm sorry about that.
0Beatrix: I thought he wanted to eat me.
Imogen: Then why weren't you at the funeral, Beatrix. Tell me that.
Beatrix: The funeral?
Beatrix: ?!?
Beatrix: Already!?
Beatrix: So fast?
Beatrix: He only died ten minutes ago...
Imogen: Olaf had a very specific will in which it is essential he is buried 2 minutes after his death to prevent him rising from the grave as an enraged and vengeful zombie!
Beatrix: I had no idea...
Imogen: Yes well, thanks to your "We could stuff him" idea we only managed it in 3 minutes
Imogen: *glances nervously at ground*
Beatrix: You mean -
Beatrix: ??!
Imogen: *Olaf arises*
Beatrix: Uh oh....
Beatrix: *grabs chainsaw*
Imogen: *rubs gristle in eyes*
Imogen: I'm so lonely.
Imogen: *Has orgy*
Imogen: :P
Beatrix: Marriage me?
Imogen: Indeed, my sweet and delectable dirgybird
Imogen: *caresses cheek*
Beatrix: D:
Beatrix: What's got into you woman??
Beatrix: *slaps you*
Imogen: I'm sorry, WOMAN?!
Imogen: What on earth has got into YOU?!
Beatrix: I'm a male chauvinist now :(
Imogen: I've only been inserting my oversized member into you for the last TWELVE years.
Imogen: You of all people should know I'm all man.
Beatrix: D:
Beatrix: That was your MEMBER?
Beatrix: I thought it was your leg
Imogen: *inserts oversized member*
Imogen: Well sometimes it was.
Imogen: But MOSTLY it was my member.
Beatrix: It felt like a leg...
Beatrix: *suspicious*
Beatrix: It even sounded like a leg...
Imogen: I have a condition. Imogen: I don't like to talk about it.
Imogen: *withdraws misshapen member with foot-like kink in it, wearing a bizarre kind of thrid trouser leg*
Imogen: *third
Beatrix: D: D: D:
Beatrix: Oh God...
Beatrix: That's so...
Beatrix: Erotic.
Imogen: You know it, baby.
Imogen: I stiched the trouser leg myself :)
Imogen: *stitched
Imogen: It took me three weeks and I ran out of thread and had to use my own hair...
Imogen: All of it.
Beatrix: .....
Beatrix: I don't want to talk to you any more.
Imogen: *plays sad music on a tiny mandolin*
Imogen: Don't say that, my grimsby-snidge
Imogen: Our love is forever. *handcuffs you to bedrail*
Beatrix: Oh shi- Beatrix: Let me go!
Imogen: What's that, my tasty gristle?
Imogen: You want us to be together until the end of time?
Beatrix: LET ME GO!
Beatrix: *pulls at chains*
Beatrix: Aargh!
Imogen: I don't know why you're pulling at those chains, my wickedness.
Imogen: I distinctly remember handcuffing you to our connubial bed.
Beatrix: Because I'm trying to get free :@
Imogen: But... Well carry on then.
Imogen: *chains are the only thing suspending bed from boiling pit of lava*
Beatrix: Oh SHI-
Imogen: *filled with slugs. Dead ones.*
Beatrix: *clings onto bed railings*
Imogen: *Watches detachedly as bed falls from weakened chains into lava*
Imogen: *calls down* Don't worry, my crispy corpse! I'll still love oyu!
Imogen: *you
Beatrix: *is a charred corpse*
Beatrix: Happy now?!
Imogen: Yus ^ ^
Imogen: *faps*
Beatrix: D:
Beatrix: Stop that
Beatrix: I'm still sore there D:
Imogen: Fair enough
Imogen: I'm done now anyway. *Mooches off for tissue*
Beatrix: Oh, what's the point?
Beatrix: Leave it there, it might help heal the wounds
Imogen: I doubt it. But I'm sure you know best. *rubs AIDS infected semen into wounds*
Beatrix: OH SHI-
Beatrix: You could've told me :(
Imogen: Now you have to stay with me forver :)
Imogen: *forever
Imogen: Noone else will want you because you are horribly burnt and have aids and you also smell.
Beatrix: I do?
Beatrix: Why?
Beatrix: *sniffs self*
Beatrix: I think I smell okay...
Imogen: That is probably because your nose is burnt off.
Imogen: You smell like a chorizo.
Beatrix: Mm :) Tasty.
Imogen: Exactly *summons the wolves*
Imogen: Awowowowowowwoooooooooolflikenoises.
Beatrix: Woah....
Beatrix: Wait
Beatrix: We can talk this through...
Imogen: Hey, there's Olaf now!
Beatrix: *bites out chunk of own burnt flesh*
Imogen: I bet my offer of eternal love and sticky companionship is looking pretty appealing right now...
Beatrix: *spits it at Olaf's mouth*
Beatrix: *gives him AIDs*
Beatrix: *Olaf dies*
Imogen: That's terrible!
Imogen: He was Fred's life partner!
Beatrix: *feels guilty*
Beatrix: Uh...
Beatrix: We could stuff him?
Imogen: Why would you do such a thing?!
Beatrix: It's kind of like my dead stuffed husband only a little less weird?
Imogen: I only invited him round for a bit of a stroke and a biscuit!
Imogen: Now look at him!
Imogen: What, do you think Fred won't notice?!
Beatrix: You invited him over to EAT ME ALIVE!
Beatrix: You can't possibly call that 'stroke and a biscuit'
Imogen: THAT'S NOT WHAT "Awowowowowowwoooooooooolflikenoises" MEANS!
Beatrix: *scowls*
Beatrix: I don't believe you.
Imogen: "Awowowowowowwoooooooooolflikenoises" Means "Hey Olaf, my furry amigo, come round for a nice stroke and a biscuit, and meet my crispy corpse wife, she's really nice and I'm sure you'll be friends!"
Imogen: *wolves, attracted to the noise, come close and are stroked, and eat biscuits*
Imogen: *they politely shake your hand*
Beatrix: Thanks, guys...
Imogen: You know, this is a much nicer way of thanking them than the way you THANKED OLAF.
Imogen: ALthough I think I mean "THANKED" notethesarcasticquotationmarks!
Beatrix: Look, I'm sorry about that.
0Beatrix: I thought he wanted to eat me.
Imogen: Then why weren't you at the funeral, Beatrix. Tell me that.
Beatrix: The funeral?
Beatrix: ?!?
Beatrix: Already!?
Beatrix: So fast?
Beatrix: He only died ten minutes ago...
Imogen: Olaf had a very specific will in which it is essential he is buried 2 minutes after his death to prevent him rising from the grave as an enraged and vengeful zombie!
Beatrix: I had no idea...
Imogen: Yes well, thanks to your "We could stuff him" idea we only managed it in 3 minutes
Imogen: *glances nervously at ground*
Beatrix: You mean -
Beatrix: ??!
Imogen: *Olaf arises*
Beatrix: Uh oh....
Beatrix: *grabs chainsaw*
Imogen: *rubs gristle in eyes*
Fanimals
Fred says: Imogen iguana!
Imogen says: Fred flamingo?
Imogen says: Sorry, I'm not really fond of flamingos.
Imogen says: There must be a more complimentary Fanimal
Imogen says: (Fanimal; an animal beginning with the letter F)
Fred says: Frog is the prefered choice
Imogen says: It takes a greater proportion of time and effort to type, but I'll take it!
Fred says: Yes, iguana is easy
Fred says: Frog is tough
Imogen says: Well I suppose I must be thankful that there is no such animal as a Ficklelinkidinkidunk.
Fred says: Ah but there is!
Fred says: It lives in the Borders on the moors
Imogen says: SHIT
Imogen says: Something must be done!
Imogen says: *fetches gun and hunting hat*
Fred says: Imogen, are we going to commit genocide again?
Imogen says: Last time didn't really count.
Imogen says: Some of the haggis got away.
Fred says: Yes but there were no breeding couples!
Imogen says: Yes, but the gay couples moved to Denmark and adopted.
Imogen says: AND EVERYONE KNOWS BEING A HAGGIS IS CONTAGIOUS.
Imogen says: Fred flamingo?
Imogen says: Sorry, I'm not really fond of flamingos.
Imogen says: There must be a more complimentary Fanimal
Imogen says: (Fanimal; an animal beginning with the letter F)
Fred says: Frog is the prefered choice
Imogen says: It takes a greater proportion of time and effort to type, but I'll take it!
Fred says: Yes, iguana is easy
Fred says: Frog is tough
Imogen says: Well I suppose I must be thankful that there is no such animal as a Ficklelinkidinkidunk.
Fred says: Ah but there is!
Fred says: It lives in the Borders on the moors
Imogen says: SHIT
Imogen says: Something must be done!
Imogen says: *fetches gun and hunting hat*
Fred says: Imogen, are we going to commit genocide again?
Imogen says: Last time didn't really count.
Imogen says: Some of the haggis got away.
Fred says: Yes but there were no breeding couples!
Imogen says: Yes, but the gay couples moved to Denmark and adopted.
Imogen says: AND EVERYONE KNOWS BEING A HAGGIS IS CONTAGIOUS.
Whipped Corpse and the Congo
Fred says: Hullo
Imogen says: Greetings, Whippish one.
Fred says: I am Whippish, what is it to you?
Imogen says: As a meringue inspector extraordinaire, it is everything.
Imogen says: You might claim to be Whippish, and I and many others may call you such,
Imogen says: but are you truly Whipped?
Fred says: As a meringue I view you with some disdain
Imogen says: Disdainful meringues are something which I am sure I heartily detest.
Imogen says: Particularly those lacking an oozy lemon filling and light pastry casing.
Imogen says: You sir!
Imogen says: Where is your casing, may I ask?
Fred says: Look... my casing, well that's interesting because...
Fred says: *whips you*
Imogen says: Aha! Illegal Whipping without a licence, is it?
Imogen says: *handcuffs you to a radiator*
Fred says: Look, I left my license in my casing...
Imogen says: And where is that?
Fred says: Hurrrm, it's at the bakers....
Imogen says: And your creamy soft oozing lemony centre, how about that?
Fred says: Erm....
Fred says: Look, I don't know what happened to Lemon
Imogen says: So you claim.
Fred says: All I know is one day a spoon went right through me and Lemon was gone.
Fred says: It's the truth dammit!
Imogen says: *Paces the room agitatedly*
Imogen says: Then how do you explain this?
Fred says: I told you
Fred says: Spoon goes in
Fred says: Lemon goes out
Imogen says: *Holds up picture of you disgustingly licking and devouring your own creamy centre*
Fred says: That could be any Whipped creamy top.
Imogen says: I think you'll find this explains your recent spout of blindness
Imogen says: Or not, because you are blind
Fred says: I shan't say another word until I see my baker.
Imogen says: All in all I've been rather thoughtless about this.
Fred says: Not only am I not blind
Fred says: I'm barely sentient!
Imogen says: Your baker is already facing criminal charges in another court of law.
Fred says: Then I want another baker.
Imogen says: *holds up photograph of you joining Mensa*
Imogen says: Fair enough.
Imogen says: You can have Jacob
Fred says: *Sigh*
Fred says: I'm a smart meringue.
Imogen says: Is there something wrong with Jacob?
Imogen says: He's a fine boy.
Fred says: His muffins are doughy and his doughnuts muffiny.
Fred says: He'll mistake me for a trifle!
Fred says: No inspector, this simply won't do.
Imogen says: All this is somewhat incongruous considering Jacob's indefatigable aptitude for the practice of Lemon Meringue Law.
Imogen says: And it's Inspector Incredible to you, oh Empty One.
Fred says: I needn't remind you that I am NOT a lemon meringue, not anymore
Fred says: I am above or at least excused from these laws by that simple default
Fred says: In fact I've been interviewing some cherries
Imogen says: It is not what you ARE that concerns me.
Imogen says: It's the fact that you are chained to a radiator and therefore entirely under my power!
Fred says: *Sigh*
Imogen says: *faps*
Fred says: *sighs*
Fred says: Need I remind you of my consistency?
Fred says: *dribbles away*
Imogen says: Drat and double drat!
Imogen says: *summons flying monkeys*
Fred says: *melts into a drain*
Fred says: Imogen cat, do tell, how is life?
Imogen says: All is well, as long as I disconnect both my brain and my hormones.
Imogen says: My hormonal brain, as it were.
Fred says: Then all is a contusion!
Imogen says: Indeed! To the keep! *runs away*
Fred says: But what is wrong with your hormones in relation to your brain?
Fred says: *sits in the keep*
Fred says: So, Ronnie, I saw your wife last night *nudges you*
Imogen says: Ah well due to lack of sun I become sad, or S.A.D, which then leads my brain to go all crazy schizo and imagine that all the world is my enemy, even the small percentage of it made up of cupcakes.
Imogen says: Whassat 'bout my wife?
Imogen says: *looms over you*
Fred says: I SAW 'er last night, Ron.
Imogen says: Oo-er. She's been dead these past forty years, Ted.
Fred says: Looming isn't legal, not since the king *points at a portrait of your hormonal brain* the king says looming is for his guards only.
Imogen says: You do realise that since my hormonal brain is apparently king, we are living in a world WITHOUT CUPCAKES.
Fred says: I can live with that, Ron....
Imogen says: Of course YOU can. You sexually service the dead.
Fred says: Look, your wife's only been dead forty years, that's alive compared with some of 'em
Imogen says: Ted, just because you can jiggle her about without any limbs dropping off does not make her "alive" in any sense of the word.
Fred says: But in some sense... you still mourn her for instance
Fred says: 'er mem'ry is alive in you
Imogen says: That doesn't give you the right to keep your love mayonnaise alive within HER though, does it?
Fred says: *coughs*
Imogen says: (was that a little too far?)
Imogen says: (I can never tell)
Fred says: (For us, no)
Fred says: My love mayonnaise is about all that's preserving her at the moment.
Imogen says: You should really cut down on the high vinegar content of your food then, Ted.
Fred says: *Swigs back some vinegar cider*
Fred says: You should cut back on the crap, Ron, your bowels aint what they were back in 76
Imogen says: *That's not vinegar cider, that's piss in a bottle*
Imogen says: *not that it should make much of a difference, in my opinion*
Fred says: *coughs*
Fred says: Ron, I'm just going to get more cider.
Imogen says: I wouldn't if I were you.
Imogen says: You honestly don't want to know what I put in the other cider bottles.
Imogen says: I'm an angry man, Ted.
Imogen says: And as you mentioned, my bowels ain't what they used to be.
Fred says: Ron....*put hand on your metal armor thigh*
Fred says: Sometimes I wish you'd let some of that anger loose on me.
Imogen says: I might be cold, Ted.
Imogen says: But it's the metal
Imogen says: I'm not dead yet.
Fred says: *Sigh* but at 68, Ron, you aint got long left.
Fred says: And I'll be there
Fred says: Burying you next to your wife
Fred says: Burying into you next to your wife..
Imogen says: Ted, do you know much about cats?
Fred says: No, Ron.
Imogen says: Well, it just so turns out that I happen to be one.
Imogen says: *rapes you with my mighty barbed penis*
Imogen says: Wasn't that fun?
Fred says: Praise to the hormonal brain....*dies*....
Imogen says: *pisses on corpse*
Imogen says: *catches AIDS*
Imogen says: *dies*
Fred says: So, we were killed by the whim of the hormonal brain
Imogen says: Indeed.
Imogen says: Thus be the cruel and indifferent world we live in.
Imogen says: Praise be to the brain.
Fred says: *nods*
Fred says: So brain, where to now?
Imogen says: The Congo
Fred says: *gets out a machette(sp) and some cigars*
Imogen says: Where, even now, flesh eating gorillas improbably guarding Soloman's diamond mine await us.
Fred says: Thiise mishion is daingeroos, Jaine!
Imogen says: Faddleposh!
Imogen says: Now mount this giant spiny elephant so that we might climb that suspiciously smoking thick-jungle covered mountain!
Imogen says: *mounts her remarkably less spiny elephant with ease*
Fred says: But Jaine, that mountain is mount Atumbu, it is held by rebel militia and some say their iies a massiieve ape der!
Imogen says: Not to fear Manunday! I have packed you this small and unbelievably blunt knife with which to defend yourself!
Fred says: But Jaine, dey have AK47s and RPG launchers, not to mention T49 armored tanks!
Imogen says: Look Mr Ungrateful, you shall have your small greasy blunt broken knife and be happy with it!
Imogen says: *climbs inside tank*
Fred says: Lemme in dat tank Jaine!
Imogen says: Uhhh... Nah
Fred says: Jaine, you are a bihatch, I am going ro illegally traffic arms and diamunds like I should've have from da start
Imogen says: You can try, Manunday, but you shall never succeed against the improbably flesh eating apes of the congo!
Fred says: *Sigh*
Fred says: Jaine your hormonal mind suffocates me
Fred says: This jungle is so close
Fred says: And your tank is unseemly in dese surroundings
Imogen says: *Squirts hormones in your eyes*
Imogen says: Don't criticise me!
Fred says: AHHH!
Imogen says: Take this: oestrogen!
Fred says: *Dies from AIDs*
Fred says: There, you AIDs ridden fool.
Imogen says: SHIT
Imogen says: Now there is no bait to distract the flesh eating apes from my kleptomaniac intentions regarding the mines they are sworn to protect!
Imogen says: *is eaten by apes and dies*
Imogen says: Greetings, Whippish one.
Fred says: I am Whippish, what is it to you?
Imogen says: As a meringue inspector extraordinaire, it is everything.
Imogen says: You might claim to be Whippish, and I and many others may call you such,
Imogen says: but are you truly Whipped?
Fred says: As a meringue I view you with some disdain
Imogen says: Disdainful meringues are something which I am sure I heartily detest.
Imogen says: Particularly those lacking an oozy lemon filling and light pastry casing.
Imogen says: You sir!
Imogen says: Where is your casing, may I ask?
Fred says: Look... my casing, well that's interesting because...
Fred says: *whips you*
Imogen says: Aha! Illegal Whipping without a licence, is it?
Imogen says: *handcuffs you to a radiator*
Fred says: Look, I left my license in my casing...
Imogen says: And where is that?
Fred says: Hurrrm, it's at the bakers....
Imogen says: And your creamy soft oozing lemony centre, how about that?
Fred says: Erm....
Fred says: Look, I don't know what happened to Lemon
Imogen says: So you claim.
Fred says: All I know is one day a spoon went right through me and Lemon was gone.
Fred says: It's the truth dammit!
Imogen says: *Paces the room agitatedly*
Imogen says: Then how do you explain this?
Fred says: I told you
Fred says: Spoon goes in
Fred says: Lemon goes out
Imogen says: *Holds up picture of you disgustingly licking and devouring your own creamy centre*
Fred says: That could be any Whipped creamy top.
Imogen says: I think you'll find this explains your recent spout of blindness
Imogen says: Or not, because you are blind
Fred says: I shan't say another word until I see my baker.
Imogen says: All in all I've been rather thoughtless about this.
Fred says: Not only am I not blind
Fred says: I'm barely sentient!
Imogen says: Your baker is already facing criminal charges in another court of law.
Fred says: Then I want another baker.
Imogen says: *holds up photograph of you joining Mensa*
Imogen says: Fair enough.
Imogen says: You can have Jacob
Fred says: *Sigh*
Fred says: I'm a smart meringue.
Imogen says: Is there something wrong with Jacob?
Imogen says: He's a fine boy.
Fred says: His muffins are doughy and his doughnuts muffiny.
Fred says: He'll mistake me for a trifle!
Fred says: No inspector, this simply won't do.
Imogen says: All this is somewhat incongruous considering Jacob's indefatigable aptitude for the practice of Lemon Meringue Law.
Imogen says: And it's Inspector Incredible to you, oh Empty One.
Fred says: I needn't remind you that I am NOT a lemon meringue, not anymore
Fred says: I am above or at least excused from these laws by that simple default
Fred says: In fact I've been interviewing some cherries
Imogen says: It is not what you ARE that concerns me.
Imogen says: It's the fact that you are chained to a radiator and therefore entirely under my power!
Fred says: *Sigh*
Imogen says: *faps*
Fred says: *sighs*
Fred says: Need I remind you of my consistency?
Fred says: *dribbles away*
Imogen says: Drat and double drat!
Imogen says: *summons flying monkeys*
Fred says: *melts into a drain*
Fred says: Imogen cat, do tell, how is life?
Imogen says: All is well, as long as I disconnect both my brain and my hormones.
Imogen says: My hormonal brain, as it were.
Fred says: Then all is a contusion!
Imogen says: Indeed! To the keep! *runs away*
Fred says: But what is wrong with your hormones in relation to your brain?
Fred says: *sits in the keep*
Fred says: So, Ronnie, I saw your wife last night *nudges you*
Imogen says: Ah well due to lack of sun I become sad, or S.A.D, which then leads my brain to go all crazy schizo and imagine that all the world is my enemy, even the small percentage of it made up of cupcakes.
Imogen says: Whassat 'bout my wife?
Imogen says: *looms over you*
Fred says: I SAW 'er last night, Ron.
Imogen says: Oo-er. She's been dead these past forty years, Ted.
Fred says: Looming isn't legal, not since the king *points at a portrait of your hormonal brain* the king says looming is for his guards only.
Imogen says: You do realise that since my hormonal brain is apparently king, we are living in a world WITHOUT CUPCAKES.
Fred says: I can live with that, Ron....
Imogen says: Of course YOU can. You sexually service the dead.
Fred says: Look, your wife's only been dead forty years, that's alive compared with some of 'em
Imogen says: Ted, just because you can jiggle her about without any limbs dropping off does not make her "alive" in any sense of the word.
Fred says: But in some sense... you still mourn her for instance
Fred says: 'er mem'ry is alive in you
Imogen says: That doesn't give you the right to keep your love mayonnaise alive within HER though, does it?
Fred says: *coughs*
Imogen says: (was that a little too far?)
Imogen says: (I can never tell)
Fred says: (For us, no)
Fred says: My love mayonnaise is about all that's preserving her at the moment.
Imogen says: You should really cut down on the high vinegar content of your food then, Ted.
Fred says: *Swigs back some vinegar cider*
Fred says: You should cut back on the crap, Ron, your bowels aint what they were back in 76
Imogen says: *That's not vinegar cider, that's piss in a bottle*
Imogen says: *not that it should make much of a difference, in my opinion*
Fred says: *coughs*
Fred says: Ron, I'm just going to get more cider.
Imogen says: I wouldn't if I were you.
Imogen says: You honestly don't want to know what I put in the other cider bottles.
Imogen says: I'm an angry man, Ted.
Imogen says: And as you mentioned, my bowels ain't what they used to be.
Fred says: Ron....*put hand on your metal armor thigh*
Fred says: Sometimes I wish you'd let some of that anger loose on me.
Imogen says: I might be cold, Ted.
Imogen says: But it's the metal
Imogen says: I'm not dead yet.
Fred says: *Sigh* but at 68, Ron, you aint got long left.
Fred says: And I'll be there
Fred says: Burying you next to your wife
Fred says: Burying into you next to your wife..
Imogen says: Ted, do you know much about cats?
Fred says: No, Ron.
Imogen says: Well, it just so turns out that I happen to be one.
Imogen says: *rapes you with my mighty barbed penis*
Imogen says: Wasn't that fun?
Fred says: Praise to the hormonal brain....*dies*....
Imogen says: *pisses on corpse*
Imogen says: *catches AIDS*
Imogen says: *dies*
Fred says: So, we were killed by the whim of the hormonal brain
Imogen says: Indeed.
Imogen says: Thus be the cruel and indifferent world we live in.
Imogen says: Praise be to the brain.
Fred says: *nods*
Fred says: So brain, where to now?
Imogen says: The Congo
Fred says: *gets out a machette(sp) and some cigars*
Imogen says: Where, even now, flesh eating gorillas improbably guarding Soloman's diamond mine await us.
Fred says: Thiise mishion is daingeroos, Jaine!
Imogen says: Faddleposh!
Imogen says: Now mount this giant spiny elephant so that we might climb that suspiciously smoking thick-jungle covered mountain!
Imogen says: *mounts her remarkably less spiny elephant with ease*
Fred says: But Jaine, that mountain is mount Atumbu, it is held by rebel militia and some say their iies a massiieve ape der!
Imogen says: Not to fear Manunday! I have packed you this small and unbelievably blunt knife with which to defend yourself!
Fred says: But Jaine, dey have AK47s and RPG launchers, not to mention T49 armored tanks!
Imogen says: Look Mr Ungrateful, you shall have your small greasy blunt broken knife and be happy with it!
Imogen says: *climbs inside tank*
Fred says: Lemme in dat tank Jaine!
Imogen says: Uhhh... Nah
Fred says: Jaine, you are a bihatch, I am going ro illegally traffic arms and diamunds like I should've have from da start
Imogen says: You can try, Manunday, but you shall never succeed against the improbably flesh eating apes of the congo!
Fred says: *Sigh*
Fred says: Jaine your hormonal mind suffocates me
Fred says: This jungle is so close
Fred says: And your tank is unseemly in dese surroundings
Imogen says: *Squirts hormones in your eyes*
Imogen says: Don't criticise me!
Fred says: AHHH!
Imogen says: Take this: oestrogen!
Fred says: *Dies from AIDs*
Fred says: There, you AIDs ridden fool.
Imogen says: SHIT
Imogen says: Now there is no bait to distract the flesh eating apes from my kleptomaniac intentions regarding the mines they are sworn to protect!
Imogen says: *is eaten by apes and dies*
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
