is just such a bar where MMA-loving lawyers meet to drink and hold fight clubs like the spoiled impotent bourgeoisie they are. So I lurked in the men's room at the Mat, taking pics

was in very poor taste, his chest hair, but the lice defended it to the last, even as some people ripped it out at the root and others threw more lice into it. He wanted to die.

It was her way of blaming others for her own autonomous criminal actions. But baby-eating was a serious crime; she hadn't reckoned with Lt. Agumon Friday of the Food Police.

whatever reason people "swiped yes", she became disheartened that nobody was willing to dip their stick in crazy. Then she saw a pic of Nyarlathotep of the Thousand Screaming Maws.

kept returning red squigglies under the word "womyn". I don't get why human and woman get special syllables, but man is just plain, unremarkable, unannointed "man".

ench. Reynard the fox, hero to the French people, was busy poisoning some school children while wearing the pelt of Wolf, whose wife he had just rogered in the back of the veranda.

Toast sounded about good right then, and I was pretty sure the words "Hooters", "Purple Nurples", and "Flops" were responsible for why I could suddenly smell burnt toast. Edging up

blasted the blasted heath until my blaster's batteries were out of blasting juice. So I squeezed some caterpillars out into its blast chamber to refuel my blaster and I was good to

no addiction to heroin laced with crack and a THC chaser. But who had time for that in this crazy fad-a-day world? People slaved away to make videos of playing mobile games. What

out a selection of erotic crullers to enjoy by herself. As she walked down the London street in London, a street in London, she checked her watch, noting Big Ben was a minute slow.

demonstrated the route Sir English Mustacheface had taken along the veranda through the conservatarium and out via the solarineum. He'd eaten all the sidewalk chalk--the big kind.

five people that were doing the show with him froze when they realized about Charles vital status. But the show must go on, so they tossed his body to the air, improvising a number

I looked down from the window and saw him doing a handstand and saying "I am the strongest person in this world." Well, he was strong after all he just jumped from 3 storeys.

-led. Mildred replied to the Frenchman, "a fence only keeps honest people out but men with guns keep the prisoners in. With my Kalashnikov I have no need for a lock."

ge just to attend to the towel boy's funeral. "You're having an open casket?" he shouted. "He was hit by a train! The funeral home's gonna smell like stroganoff!"

ant army was mobilizing on us. The Barbarian brandished his longsword, and Kryan grabbed a giant flyswatter. Coming to our aid was Lt. Agumon Friday of the Food Police.

reveals the coward underneath, hiding behind the cheap, showy makeup of "lol random" humor. I give the blown a black eye he won't soon forget. Being serious is a vulnerability. Art

her legions of Welsh corgi-like kobolds ensure the sanctity of her burial space with spears aloft and tongues agog, the short-footed little bastards. I'd like to punt one right off

by and share some loaded nachos, and if one of us can't make it, the doppelganger takes their place for them and reports back. Playing DND had really opened up our horizons, and

there for every unimportant crisis that never directly affected you that you could possibly envision, should you have an all-powerful imagination machine sitting upon your head.