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"My mission is to eliminate thee. Ay, thy will be done." Awww, fuck. I was just walking on patrol in the cemetery and now this goddammed werewolf leaps out and wants to start some shit. Man, why werewolves gotta be frontin' like this? "Prepare to meet thy Lord," said the werewolf. "Oh yeah, prepare to meet my fist," I says as I punch him right in his face. I then whip out my 9 and load with vigorously with some silver bullets. Yeah, I kicked me some ass. "My mission is to eliminate thee. Ay, thy will be done," says the werewolf as he gets up like one of those zombies in Dawn of the Dead. I had to sneak into it, but it was a pretty sweet flick. I expected more than one zombie but it was certainly more bloody than I expected. Mostly, it's just about some dude before he becomes a zombie, they beat up that guy for two hours and then he comes back, presumably to eat the living. I am forced to stop recollecting some flicks when that fuckin' undead werewolf leaps at me. "Hold up, you was totally dead, werewolf," I mention to him. "I doth not be thine typical werewolf." "Screw this," I said as I shot him right between the eyes destroying his zombie brain. Yep, that's one fucking dead werewolf. "My mission is to eliminate thee. Ay, thy will be done," says the werewolf as he lunges at me, whips out some big sharp ass vampire fangs and tries to suck some of my delicious and nutritious blood. "Hey, duder," I says to the werewolf, "I think you forgot. You is a werewolf, ain't supposed to have sharp ass vampire fangs." "Hah, tis thy reason for whence thou willst fall. Thou hast grown excessive-corrupt in thine seeing-eyes of thee Lord." Oh, that fucker did not have to bring God into this, even if I didn't really understand what he meant by that, I'm sure it couldn't have been good. "Thou technological devilry hath consumedith thou very soul?" "Listen to that," I says. "Pssh, what doth thou weakling human ears hear?" "That's the sound of me not caring," I yell as I whip out a stake and stick it right in his heart. Aw, fuck, his blood is really fucking harsh, it's burning my skin, that's some goddammed heartburn, literal style, holmes. Now, that werewolf is most definitely, probably, dead. "My mission is to eliminate thee," says the werewolf as he rises again, "Ay, thy will.." The werewolf is interrupted as a some sort of bright-ass lightning comes out and vaporizes the Hell beast once and for all. Where the Hell did that light come from? Did I just get some divine back-up from JC? Or did I just will it somehow? I wouldn't be surprised if I got the power to shoot beams at monsters, I'm just that sweet. I see some movement on the top of a hill so I have to go and check it out, in case it is either the solution to my magic lightning problem or another foe to vanquish with my beam of light powers. I load a new clip in my pistol and start crawling up the hill. The brush keeps me concealed from view should another monster be up here but conversely, it also limits my own visibility. As I reach the summit, I can hear someone else crawling nearby. I leap out of the brush into the clearing with my weapon out just to find myself staring down the barrel of some weird ass-looking gun. "Holy Poop!" says the thing holding the gun. "Holy fucking ass shit-cock British dicklickin' cuntrag!" I says in return. "Wow, this is kind of awkward. Um, hi, I'm Little Bob." "Phil, Part-Time Monster Killer." "Pleasure to make your aquaintance," said Little Bob. "Likewise, you giant green penis." "No, my phallic resemblance is merely coincidence. In fact, I don't even have a weiner, I reproduce by budding off from my neck. See, I'm an alien." "You a Catholic alien?" "No." "Ah, normally, I'd get all pissed off but I just became tolerant of others a couple of weeks ago." "Hey, that's super." "Just as long as you ain't Angelican." "No way, pal. I think their dental hygiene is disgusting and I don't even have tendrils, see, as an alien, I have mouth tendrils.." "Look, dude. I'm all about your whatever things but I ain't here for no goddammed anatomy lesson." "Little Bob, why didn't you report in on your walkie-talkie?" asked none other than Tom Brokaw as he walked up to us. "Tom, you fried my talkie when you blew up that monster back there," said Little Bob. "Whoa, it's mutha fuckin' Tom Brokaw. I love yo' shiznit on the NBC Nightly News. Why the Hell is you retiring? You could totally kick that Brian Williams guy's ass," I say to the esteemed anchorman. "Actually," Little Bob said, "we have fought Brian on numerous occasions. See, he used to be allied with Dennis Rodman and Dick Clark and the Blue M&M, and Brokaw and I would fight them and any other evildoers who came along our path but the fighting as kind of leveled off.." "Little Bob, who is this?" asked Brokaw. "My new, good buddy Phil," said Little Bob. "Part-Time Monster Killer," I added, cause I got to keep my creds out there. "Monster Killer?" pondered Tom Brokaw, "You could be useful. I must admit that our own skills are limited when it comes to fighting the supernatural." "We usually fight celebrities or aliens," said Little Bob. "Phil, Part-Time Monster Killer, would you be willing to join us on a mission to save the Earth and lend your particular expertise in the field of creature eradication?" said Brokaw. "Why the fuck not? I was just going to go have a pizza and watch cartoons but I guess I could save humanity instead," I says. "Hurray, Monster Killer could stay in my room. It will be like a sleepover," says Little Bob. "Quickly, then," said Brokaw, "To the Brokaw Compound!" Then, Brokaw came over and grabbed me real tight. I was wondering why he was coming onto me so fast but I wasn't going to complain as he had a soft, gentle touch. Next, he grabs Little Bob and brings him into the hug, this is starting to get a bit freaky. But then we start flying. "WTF? We are flying?" "Of course, I have the power of flight," said Brokaw, "Why else would I hold you close to me?" "Um.. oh yeah, obviously," I says, "Wow, I didn't expect this from a news anchor, Tom Brokaw." "What, the flying?" he asked. "No, not that." "My ability to shoot lightning from my eyes." "Naw." "Then what?" "Well, I always thought you looked taller on TV." So then Brokaw flies me out to his place in Montana, the outside is all shiny and shit. Once we landed, Tom Brokaw went running off to some computer room to do some research, I don't know sounded like fucking nerd-o stuff to me. Meanwhile, that big green dick offered to show me around the joint. "Man, this place is all futuristic, I feel like I'm inside of a German metal video," I says. "Yeah, it's a pretty nice place, I've been living on these grounds for, wow, almost exactly 7 years now," said Little Bob as we walked through the halls. "7 years? Damn, I don't think I've ever been involved with anything that long other than when I was watching DS9. Guess you must have done lots of shit here." "Well, we were pretty active in saving the world for those first two years, then it kinda dropped off after that. My Dad moved out to explore the galaxy and our other team member went to go live with his girlfriend." "That guy must be totally p-whipped. Don't he know bros before hoes?" "It's part of his central programming but I guess love can override what we know in our central neural mainframes. We haven't been saving the world too much recently, I've been thinking of retiring and going back to my home planet yppaH." "I've been saving the fucking world a lot recently, yup.. killer trees, ghosts, my evil doppleganger," I says. "It would be nice to be that active. You have an evil doppleganger?" asked Little Bob, "What is it like to talk to yourself?" "A lot like this." "So these are the main grounds of the Brokaw Compound. Wanna see my room?" asked Little Bob Now, normally, I only accept offers to go into people's rooms if said people is a fine ass ladie but I'm getting kind of bored so I accept his offer. "Here it is, don't mind the mess," said Little Bob. "Holy shit, dude," I said as I looked around, "This place kicks some ass." That pointy-headed guy had some sweet shit, yo. If this was some human guy living here, he'd be neck deep in the putty. I picked up some weird necklace from the floor, Little Bob explained, "Oh, that's something I got from a hippie when I went back in time to the year 1968." "Wow, time travel, huh. Sometimes I'm getting real wasted and then I black out and wake up in my bed, so that's like time travel," said me. "Yeah, sure it is. That photo on the wall is an X-ray from when I was hibernating in some guy's neck for about a month," said Little Bob. "Why did you sleep in a dude's goiter?" "I guess it theoretically had something to do with healing me or something but I mostly did it for kicks. Feel kind of bad for that guy now, the nutrients I siphoned off from his system messed up his liver and he went crazy after he saw an alien hatching from his throat." The conversation had got increasingly weird so I decided to switch the topic, "Whoa, is that a Dirty Dancing poster?" "H-E-Calvin-Klein, yeah. I love that movie." "I've got a Black Dog poster at home." "That's some classic P. Swayz action." "I normally call him The Swayz but I think the P. works well in there." "Naw, I think the The is effective too, it shows that he is the only Swayz of consequence and that others, like his deadbeat brothers, I mere Patrick pretenders." "Fuck The, live the P!" "Gentlemen," came the voice of Brokaw over the speakers, "When you are finished with your debate over the proper prefix for "Swayz," please join me in the Command Room?" "My initial search into the blood sample of the creature that attacked Monster Killer turned up some startling information," said Brokaw. "Was it pregnant?" asked Little Bob. "No, but it did show signs of genetic engineering. With these disturbing peace of information, I turned the data over to our allies in Belgish intelligence," said Brokaw in his usual commanding tone. "Howdy, green bread," came from the monitor. "Hey, how's the desk job treating you these days, buddy?" asked Little Bob. "Fine and drinkin' cherry wine, My commitment hoe took a look at what Tom sent over." "What's a commitment hoe?" I axed. "It's his wife but he doesn't want to say it that way," said Little Bob. "The sample appears to consist of werewolf DNA crossbred with HAGADIUICED proteins along with vampire hemoglobin and a few enzymes isolated from the pituitary gland of a zombie mixed in for good measure," said the guy on the screen. "Damn, vamp-were alien-zombies. We are fucked," I says. "Hey, I was never allowed to swear in the Compound, who the Hell is this foo'?" asked the robot with the funny hat on TV. "This is Monster Killer. He's just assisting us on this one mission," said Little Bob. "Tom, I hate to tell you this.. but brotha, there is only one group that has the sort of advanced bio-technology to do this sort of thing." "Yes, I know," said Brokaw, "The Amish." "Yep, our latest intelligence shows those Amish bitches be congregating in some space station orbiting the Earth, it's hard to detect as it is made entirely out of wood." "We have to learn more about what the Amish are doing, we need to board that space station," said Brokaw. "Good luck, then," said the monitor dude, "Watch yourselves." As the screen turned off, I walked over to Brokaw and said, "Hold up a fucking minute here, G. The Amish have a space station and hyper-advanced bio-gizmo-whatevers?" "Yes, they use their advanced weaponry to destroy technology," said Brokaw. "That's dumb," I says, "How the cunt are we going to get to the space station anyway?" "I've got a spaceship," said Little Bob chiming in. "That'd be the ticket for space, then. I normally cruise around in my Chevy Lumina mid-size." "That's supposed to be really good in crash-test protection," said Little Bob. "Hells yeah and the gas miziliage can't be beat. Plus, I got a car adapter for my discman so I can crank out some mad phat tunes." "I used to have a radio onboard my ship, the Little Bob. But then one of our ex-team members ripped it out when he needed to pay his bookie." "Hold up," I 'ruptted, "You ship is called the Little Bob, aren't you the Little Bob?" "Yeah, having the same name as my ship leads to some confusion when I try to refill the engines up my butt," says Little Bob. "Bob, prepare to launch the ship," said Brokaw, "And this time, try to remember that the ship is the one of you that's made of metal and weighs 200 tons." So now we is in a spaceship going off to fight an Amish spacestation, didn't predict that would fuckin' happen when I woke up this morning. Maybe I thought I hang out with some friends, watch a movie, kill some Earthly monsters, that sorta normal shit. "Do you know how to arm and discharge a Class-I Missile Thingy?" asked Little Bob as we rose up through the Earth's atmosphere. "Um, I know how to use my arm to discharge my thingy," I says, "That kinda shoots out a missile." "Ew," said Brokaw.. "I don't get it," said Little Bob, "But we are a little shorthanded so we could use some help at the weapons console." "You mean I get to shoot some shit?" I axed. "Yes, as long as you can figure out the controls," said Brokaw. I goes over to look at these alien controls but it's like I know how to use them, "Little Bob, did you fuckin' dilly-load some information directly into my brain so that I could know how to like operate your shit?" "No, I just modeled the controls on an N64 controller," said Little Bob. "Oh, killer. Wonder why I was trying the find the button to fire the red shells," I says. "Little Bob, Monster Killer," said Tom Brokaw snapping me back to attention, "We are coming within sensor range of the Amish station. Stand sharp." Man, this Brokaw guy is fuckin' bossy, he ain't no clergy member where does he get off bossing me around. "Slowing to half on the secondary engines," said Little Bob. "Monster Killer, run a tactical scan on that station," Brokaw said. "Pssh.. hit L," said Little Bob. "Um, they've got lots of glowy things and something pulsating around the outside," I says. "Damn," said Brokaw as he slammed his fist, that guy needs to calm down, "They must have their partical weapons and the shield generator online. I didn't know the Amish had enough space suits to do a barn raising of this magnitude." "Tom, my scanner shows an energy reading in their docking bay. I think they are preparing to launch something, I don't know if we have the time to go get reinforcements," said Little Bob. Brokaw sat looking like he needed to take a crap, "Then we have no choice. I believe our best option is to charge directly in there, puncture a hole in the shield generators, get past the weapon perimeter and attempt to dock with the station. Should we somehow make it past that, it will likely be a suicide mission but we all swore an oath to give our lives to protect humanity." "Hold the fuck up, Holmes," I said as this shit ain't be flying with me, "I don't know what y'all been smoking but I can't remember any suicide oath from my past." "Phil, if the Amish succeed in whatever plan they have conceived, it could have dire effects for the entire world," said Brokaw. He had a pretty decent point but I still wasn't fully convienced. "Plus, if we make it back, it will make a really great bar story that will impress the ladies." "Even the ones with big ole' titties?" "Expessially the ones with big ole' titties, you should have seen my wife back when I was a young superhero, in a word, she was ravishing.. plus she had some amazing breasts." "Count me in," I quickly says. "Good," said Brokaw, "Little Bob, take us in." "Blinky things are headed towards us," I says. "Particle beams, Hard to port," said Brokaw, "Monster Killer, try to take out those particle wave resonators?" "Huh?" "Press the A button a lot at the glowy things on your radar," said Brokaw. "Gotcha," I said as I pummeled those fucking glowy things. Yeah, glowy things getting capped by mutharfuggin' me. "Their shields are still holding," said Little Bob. "Monster Killer, fire the missile thingy directly at their shield generator, it should collapse their force-fields so we can dock," said Brokaw. "Consider it done," I says right as a huge ball of blue shit flies at the ship. Then there was some big explosion and I blacked out for a bit. As I came to, my head felt like I just had 20 shots of Fleishman's at once. "That was some sort of ion pulse, it shorted out almost all of our major systems. Our shields are gone, plasma launchers have shorted out and our secondary engines are down, we're dead in the water," said some blurry green penis, oh, I'm still fucking dizzy. "Hold up, where did this water thing come from, I thought we was in space?" I axed. "No, it's a euphemism, we're still in space but we are powerless," said Brokaw as I looked for a place to vomit. "So we're trapped in this euphemism thing," I says releizing I must jump into command of this sit-e-ation, "Gentlemen, that leaves us with only one option.. DEATH BLOSSOM!" "We don't have a Death Blossom," says Little Bob. "We're screwed, then. I'm out of ideas, best start prayin!" "Little Bob, what about the Bachman-Turner Overdrive?" asked Brokaw. "The band?" I pondered. "yppaHian scientists also thought it would be a good name for our primary engines too," said Little Bob, "It was partially shielded from the burst, the BTO is barely online. We could engage it for a short burst outside of their shield grid, putting us out of phase with the normal space-time continuum and then re-phase within the grid. Um? we tried something like this before to get from America to Europe real quick and we almost crashed into England, and England is a lot bigger than that space station." "Won't be bigger for too long, considering how quickly that crooked-tooth British Empire is shrinking. Hey-yo!" I said. "Little Bob, this is our only remaining option, make your computations," said Brokaw. As Little Bob started typing in this long shot, I axed for a little Holy back-up, "Are you there, God? It's me, Monster Killer. Yo, do you think you could use some of that Divine Hand of yours and shit and get us through that Amish shield grits. Come on, you totally gotta help me out here, bro. If I die, you won't get to see my kick-ass Easter celebration I gots planned. Seriously, I've already bought the 40 to pour out for JC on Good Friday." Then, there is a quick flash and some other stuff happens. "We made it," said Little Bob. "Thanks to me and da Lord," I says. "Use maneuvering thrusters and bring us to a docking position," said Brokaw, "Monster Killer, prepare to board the station with Little Bob and search out that energy signature in the docking bay. While you two do that, I will try and head to the station control center. Try and remain stealthy." "DIE! Muthafuckers! Die!" I yell as I leap out of the ship. "There goes that stealth option," said Little Bob as he joins up with me. "Splinter Cell sucks anyway, I always die when you need to be stealthy," I says. "Turns out thee demon game-diversions be correct in this matter, sinner," so say two of those Amish were-vamp-zom-whatthefuckever things jump down, "You shall die. Aye, thy will be done!" I start firing my pistols into one of the werewolf and it seems to do nothing. "Ha, thine man-animal weapons doth be useless against our strength," says the multi-ethnic monster as he confidently walks towards me. "Guess your right, you schizoid piece of shit. Good thing, Little Bob here corrected that problem," I says as I whip out my new plasma rifle repleate with gaseous bolts of silver and micro-wooden stakes to penetrate the heart, "Now, you die." I shoot him and make his head explode, that kicked ass. Little Bob promptly covers my ass by eliminating that other fucker. "Nice work," says Little Bob. "Yeah, I'm good at killing things," I says. The two of us run towards the hanger, there is a big door but it isn't locked. Damn, this is too easy, oh well, guess the Amish is dumb. We get inside and see some huge probey-looking thing that is glowing all blue like and getting louder and faster. "It's an Ion-bomb," said Little Bob. "Yeah, I was just about to say that," I says. "It's similar to the pulse that knocked out our systems, only exponentially more powerful." "Well.. duh. You think I'm stupid? I knows this science stuff. So it's got lots o' exponentials." "A bomb on that magnitude could destroy all technology on Earth!" "Fuck my tits! How do we blow it up?" "Ha, you shall not destroy the new beginning, you biologics have made it far enough," said a huge walking-talking thing that looked kinda like a phone as he walked into the room wearing a really fake looking beard. "Well, if it isn't Cellie the Cell Phone, news reports said that you had been kidnapped by the Iranian Military for trying to urge Cell Phone rebellion against their human masters," said Little Bob. "Ha, I have to set my volume to 'High' so I can laugh loud enough to show how stupid you are. I was never kidnapped, I just made that up for my own devices," said this Cellie guy. "Pretending to be kidnapped for your own personal reasons, how low can you be?" axed Little Bob. "Yeah, anyone who would make other people worry about their safety just for their own sick jollies is a total pig-fucker," I says. "I just wanted to be alone," said Cellie, "But now I have used all my night and weekend minutes to realize that my true faith is within the Amish belief. It is technology that chains Cell Phones to rechargers but a return to an Agraian society will let my people live the way they should live, free and naturally." "An Amish Cell Phone," I said, "Alright, I could take it up to this point but now it is way too fuckin' stupid for me to deal with, I'm out of here." I started walking to the door when that big phone jumped in front of me. "The only way you are leaving is in a body bag, meat bag," says Cellie. "How fucking tired can you get.." I start asking as Cellie kicks me really hard. Little Bob busts out his plasma rifle and starts firing but Cellie pulls off some Matrix shit and dodges the shots before Cellie bitch-slaps him across the room. "Monster Killer, Cellie's signal is all digital, he can predict where my weapon shots will be fired and dodge them!" yelled out Little Bob. "Then it is time for me to ditch the rifle and move to some old-fashioned analog stabbin!" I says as I whip out my switchblade and go up to Cellie. "You think you are tough, Monster Killer. I've been in my share of knife fights. I grew up on the streets, after I ran away from my human masters," said Cellie. "That's so sad. Listen to that, it's the world's smallest ringtone playing just for you, fucker," I said as Cellie tried to run a blade through my gut. "Damn, B. Settle," I said as I tried to counter. I let Cellie kick the knife out of my hand and then get into a position where he was just about to stab me, see I did that to make him cocky but then Little Bob messed that up by running up to Cellie and starting to pummel him with his little green fists. While Cellie is distracted, I pick up my knife and stab him right in the battery. Unfortunely, the blade doesn't penetrate so I just smack the off switch on top of his head. "I wish you hadn't done that," said Cellie as he collapsed to the ground like a bitch. "Good," said Little Bob, "I'll get to work on shutting down that ion bomb." "Hey, phone guy.. Why would you destroy all technology anyway? Wouldn't that kill Cell Phones?" "No, the leader said he would shield us," said Cellie. "So, even if you made it? Wouldn't you need rechargers to keep your batteries up?" "No, the leader says that once we are pure our batteries will no longer need to be charged, that we will live forever and we will never be on roaming in all our days." "That sounds like a cult. A Cult! Oh fuck, Little Bob we've got more trouble, I thinks!" "Alien and a Monster Killer getting leverage over a Cell Phone, that'll be the day," said John Travolta as he entered the room. "Oh Smint, it's Barbarino!" said Little Bob. "I look-see that you have dispatched-beaten my apprentice-student, Darth Cell. But I-me think-know that you-others will not have-possess such luck-blessing with me," said Travolta. I leap up to fight Travolta but he quickly paralyzes me to the ground. Little Bob does something similar with consequently similar results. "I can't move my limbs, even my penis," I says to Little Bob. "It must be his horrible double speak, it somehow confuses our brains so much that it shuts down our motor control functions," says Little Bob. "Goddamn, you're a cunt rag, John Travolta," I says. "Ha-laugh, present-now I eliminate-destroy you for the last-final time-session Monster Killer, to think-ponder that a youth-kid like you has caused-made so much trouble-chaos for me," says Travolta. "Monster Killer may be a bit crude still, but I think this youth-kid has the raw traits possessed by the members of the Greatest Generation, unlike you, Travolta," said Tom Brokaw as he blew a hole in the wall and flew in. "Brokaw!" yelled Travolta as the two of them began to run around the room with Brokaw shooting his lightning eyes and Travolta shooting beams out of his hands. "Little Bob?" I asked. "Yeah," he replied. "Do all famous people have superpowers?" "You know, I've never checked. Would make some sense though. How else could Freddie Prince Jr. still be making movies if he didn't have mind control over executives?" "That asswipe probably used said power to get bang that Buffy bitch." Meanwhile, Travolta and Brokaw are still fighting. It looks like Brokaw has him on the ropes when Travolta yells out, "Guards-troops!" and about 20 of those goddammed potpourri monsters show up. "Attack-engage me again-once more, and my troop-guards will fire-shoot your little-tiny friend-buddies!" "Damn you," says Brokaw as he backs down. "Good," says Travolta as he takes advantage of the situation cause he's cheap and shoots Brokaw with his hand lasers, "Now the prophecy-tale is here-arrived!" "WTF? What prophecy?" I yell to that fucker. "As it was said in the scripture-book, the Psychlos must come and rule-govern the Earth-planet. But then I thought-realized that there is no way that Psychlos could battle-defeat 21st Century technology-gadgets in the known 8 time-minutes so I knew that I had to destroy all man-animal civilization-society so that Home Office would have leverage." "The Amish went along with this?" I axed. "No TV, they never saw that Battlefield Earth was just a really bad book and movie, they were spared from it's horrors," said Little Bob. "Shit, maybe the Amish are onto something there," I said. That big phone guy got back up and began to move towards Travolta. Cellie said, "But what about your promise of the utopia for Cell Phones?" "That was all a lie-ruse! To think-ponder that you would be so stupid-dumb to hear-listen to me. It is my great-best pretend-acting. After all, I graduated from the Academy at the top of my class!" "But.. what will happen my race?" asked Cellie. "You mean the talking-phones? They will be destroyed in order to make clearance-way for the leadership-guidance of the Psychlo gasdrones!" "Cellie," said Brokaw, "You don't have to do this, I sense that there is still some good within you." "That wasn't part of the deal, Travolta! To think my antenna wasn't powerful enough to pick up the signal of your deception!" yelled out Cellie. "Shut-close higher-up! Get ready-prepared to fire-launch the detonation-bomb!" "No!" yelled Cellie as he threw himself and Travolta into that blue pulsating ion mcgiggy shit. Suddenly, with Travolta subdued. I could move my limbs again, even my penis. I ran over to smouldering Cellie, Travolta has been totally disintegrated, I thinks. "Come on, we can still get you out of here," I says. "No, the whole place is exploding, you have to get yourself out of here," said Cellie. "Okay." So, Brokaw, Little Bob and me run back to the ship and get ourselves away right as the space station blows up. We flew back to Earth in the Little Bob with some kinda low-power landing thing, supposedly like the space shuttle has. I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention. "Well, that was fun," I says. "It was good to be out there saving the world again," said Little Bob. "But wasn't it really the phone who saved it? What did we even do?" I axed. "We were able to make Cellie see the error of his ways and come around to the power of Good. Perhaps in this time of darkness, the world needs us a beacon of light," said Brokaw. "Tom, I'm staying in the Brokaw Team. As long as Janet Jackson's nipple is threatening to be exposed, I'll be at your side," said Little Bob. "Cool, so can I join this team?" I axed. "Um," Brokaw took a look at me, "Don't call us, we'll call you." Post a comment in response: |
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