Over time he had become more like a genuine

Over time he had become more like a genuine DMV office worker. Pencils and pens in his bun, his moo moo was the right shade of pink, he had flip flops with that thick sole

that emits a rubbery fart with each step. The DMV had become his second home, really. He had perfected the blend that made the morning brew the delight of his fellow workers. Not a

matter to him and the task at hand - crop-dusting his coworkers at the DMV. The curious odor of burned rubber an KY Jelly filled the room. Then his boss walked in and

irrigated the entire place with a potent combination of gasoline and tequila heavy urine. The gas alone would have done it, but he wanted to go out with an exclamation point.

the tri-county area. A gas station manager leaped outside, mouth aghast. The bomber shrugged his shoulders in a most nonchalant way, and climbed back into his

rusty off-road buggy, next to his gunner. He turned to the gunner with a twinkle in his eye, and pointed at the gas station manager. The buggy gunner opened fire with his .50 cal

-orie diet smart water-filled pump-action scatter blast Super Soaker. No one was safe, especially not

after pumping it the company recommended 120 times. Oh man, THEN you were in trouble. *Splurt* Went the man cannon, as the many facets released enough liquid to cool a frog. Damn!

That's tasty sauce!