Bubble Wrap

you don't know the half of it.
enough about wyatt, what about billy bob, you've seen him, is he alright?
captain weirdo is fine but don't take my word for it, he's probably still just over ther-
-no, that's ok.
i'll talk to him later.
whatever.
his hydroponic obsession is still in full swing. i know it's a good thing that we're going to have a reliable food supply but i miss the old billy bob.
he was a lot more fun before you did whatever it was you did to him.
excuse me..?
fucking garry!
what has that contemptible bastard been saying about me?!
garry?
like i told wyatt, i haven't seen him in ages.
then what did you mean?
when?
when you said i'd done something to billy bob!
i just meant he's been different since that day you two came back from your "walk".
so help me kumar, if you don't start making sense in the next thirty seconds...
the day he started us all building the hydroponics.
c'mon penny, we all know that wasn't his idea.
what?
all he ever talked about was his next juice hit, his next meal and how he always used to get his end in, whatever that means.
i know i'm not one to talk but he was never that bright.
now? now he's sober and all kinds of smart.
hey, i'm sure he was putty in your hands once you played all your crazy female mind tricks on him.
i don't know what that means.
am i supposed to be talking to it or...
oh dear.
ow!

by Goatlord

BAM!

FRIDAY

Cue angles.

Motherfucker, if you throw another protractor or set square at me...

ANGELS, cue the goddamn angels so I can get home and get my weasel waxed!

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What?! They're babies! You are the baby wrangler!

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Fine, if the babies don't wear the wings then you can tell the mothers that they won't get their walkons on Garry Unmarried.

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I don't fucking believe this!
Boy! Yes you, go get the nail gun and all the Xanax you can lay your hands on.

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Christ, this is a fucking panto is it not?! They should be standard issue equipment!
FUCK!

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No I don't want a shit loving, whore sucking coffee ... thanks for asking though.

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Think nothing of it.
I'll tell you what, if your agent ever tells you to pass on a Hannah-banjo raping-Montana TV special, punch him in the balls. You punch him so hard that his grandsons will walk around with a pronounced bow legged wince!

Unless you actually want to end up directing shitty panto in the middle of butt fuck nowhere, surrounded by inbred hacks who think caramel macchiatos are driven by wog terrorists and aspire to be "reality" "stars". Watch how my finger quotes fly!

Then, of course, by all means sir, by all fucking means.

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No, fuck you, I insist.

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