Yes, I saw. You were doing well, until everyone died. Ugh, it’s filthy! Why not create a National Endowment for Strip Clubs while we’re at it? Moving along… I meant ‘physically’. Look, perhaps you could let me work for a little food? I could clean the floors or paint a fence, or service you sexually? I feel like I was mauled by Jesus.
And when we woke up, we had these bodies. Stop it, stop it. It’s fine. I will ‘destroy’ you! Alright, let’s mafia things up a bit. Joey, burn down the ship. Clamps, burn down the crew.
Tell her you just want to talk. It has nothing to do with mating. No! The kind with looting and maybe starting a few fires! Anyhoo, your net-suits will allow you to experience Fry’s worm infested bowels as if you were actually wriggling through them.
And remember, don’t do anything that affects anything, unless it turns out you were supposed to, in which case, for the love of God, don’t not do it! Hey, you add a one and two zeros to that or we walk!
You seem malnourished. Are you suffering from intestinal parasites? You seem malnourished. Are you suffering from intestinal parasites? And I’d do it again! And perhaps a third time! But that would be it.
Leave a Comment