I had quite the problem with these sons of mothers b4, it really turned my entire operation on it's head. One night I was out, naked, full moon, flailing my worldly body in the rapture of pure chimp energy. and there they were, in complete disregard of my potency, working away at there dastardly bastardly work, BUILDING GOD DAMN GOD. in the nooks, in the CRANNIES for CHRISTS love. in my ignorance I ignored them, IGNORED THEM in my captive chimp state, until dawn broke that is. and by golly, it was terrible. little tiny miniature workbenches everywhere god damn diddly. and oh oh. OH, once it gets to that point there's no stopping them. in a matter of days they've taught their sons all there is to know and they go setting up they're own christing workshops. why, in a week they made it into my HOME with their little delicately made furniture. there I am, sipping my tea like a good chap and there THEY are, staring back at me, smug grins all around, seated in much nicer chairs at much more expensive tables sipping their god fucking honey nectar. I don't know what to do, I just don't know what to do. It's gotten to the point where they've developed teams to patch up my shoddier woodwork around the place and god damn it, they're making me look like a fool in front of my wife and kids no less. take my advice friend, flee, just go, don't look back, just run, you'll meet new people, you'll start a new family, you'll get new friends, but you'll never get rid of the kneesy bees if even one still survives at your reading this transcript. fire is bright, fire is clean
Well shit. I'm a dummy this morning.
Well shit. I'm a dummy this morning.
Where in the hell did you find that mess?