|
|
Man, I gotta take
such a shit. |
Hath thou the roast
pig at yon dinner?
|
|
| |
|
|
Yeah-- we're talking
battering ram from the
intestinal tract, my man. |
The sun is setting
across yonder horizon.
|
|
| |
|
|
So
what the hell's
that mean? |
Our shift will end
soon, good Rupert.
|
|
| |
|
|
Good! I'm gonna go
medieval in the john with
this goddamn gas
I've been holding. |
Lord knows I'd suffer from
thine vengeful rectal wrath.
|
|
| |
|
|
|
Hark! Hark! Thine shitter hath been backed
up again
by my mighty fecal matter! My overpowering abdomen
could squeeze the largest of melons
through mere keyholes!
|
|
| |
|
|
I
bet I can kill him
quicker than you can. |
But! Thine arrows hath not
the deadly outcome
of a well-thrown axe!
|
|
