Old Toby: Hello Gwyneth Kate Paltrow, born September 28, 1972, in Los Angeles, California, and the daughter of actress Blythe Danner and television producer and director Bruce Paltrow.
Gwyneth Paltrow: AHHHHH!!!!
Old Toby: I am old, and Toby.
Gwyneth Paltrow: AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Old Toby: I believe you have some sex for me.
Gwyneth Paltrow: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Old Toby: I am excited also!
wheniwoke Here to protect us... then kill us
(9/23/02 10:57 am) Reply
"The Internet? Oh, sure I remember the Internet. Back in 'aught-two or -three, I think it was. And, then... well, you know what happened... it all got sucked up.
*soft crying*
*then, not-so-soft crying*
"OH, WHY!?!? IT ALL GOT SUCKED THE HELL UP!!!! WHY!?!? WHAT THE FUCK!!!???
"Anyway, I used to go by the name of Natar back when we still had an Internet. I'm pretty sure it was all our fault, too... us monkey-backsides, or whatever the hell we called ourselves. We had no business foolin' around with all that hi-tech stuff.
"Hey, I sorta ended up looking a little like that Art fellow, didn't I?
Buried in an unmarked grave, the military superiours to Chocolate Sith Lord at least allowed the good soldier the dignity of having the American flag (now referred to as "Ol' Bitchcakes") flown by his tomb.
Having finally deciphered the true secret involved in calculating the exact digits of Pi Randall00 dies content, and his surviving widow Paranoid Daisy abides by his instructions to have the number engraved upon his tombstone. It was 301 the whole time, you goddamn bastards. Right there in the Necromecrypticon, as well as the Bhagdad Gvita and Homeowner's Digest.
Nobody loved ArbiWan before he died, but now that he's gone beyond, his popularity's markedly increased. He's invited to all the good parties, beautiful women flirt with him at every opportunity, and he has a large posse of close companions with him at all times. Learn from his example, children, only ritualistic hari-kari of the Fifth Shaolin Demon-Magickery will insure your success afer you pass beyond the veil.
"Make certain it looks EXACTLY like my penis," were the last words of Human Torch, beloved husband and father of many a fiery-tempered redheaded bastard stepchild. Attempts to keep his monument constantly burning failed at the outset, despite close mimmicry of Olympic Flame techniques.
Having always harboured a few necrophiliac tendencies, Pepper the Mad would have found it fitting that his corpse was repeatedly put to uses he could never himself muster to do unto others. An empty tomb and a splatter of man-juice on the side of his coffin is the only token to his final resting place, before being carried off to some strange perverted end.
The Ray, doin' just fine, thanks for asking.
[Postnote : goddamn red x-es ruining my goddamn fine jokes. Instead of lusciously enjoying life with Andrea and Sharon Corr, I get to spend the future digging the graves of my old-time friends. Pooh. Pooh on you, internet!]Edited by: The Ray at: 10/3/02 10:52:38 pm
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