Paper or plastic?
Smoking or non?
Simon or Garfunkel?
Garfunkel or Ed Meese?
How do you like your eggs? Fertilized or un?
What about Nyarlathotep, then?
Yes, but I don’t.
Pepsi. With bourbon, on days like today.
Paper, smoking, Simon, Garfunkel, and scrambled, with grits and bacon.
Here on earth, whenever a human masturbates, God kills a kitten.
What does Karana kill when you masturbate?
That’s just what Tesla calls himself when he’s drunk.
Nothing, for Karana is most wise.
So which theory of the creation of the universe is closer to the truth? The Big Bang, or the Great Green Arklesiezure?
Which planet is Michael Jackson from? And could you give him a lift back? (Or at least, somewhere else?)
Do your ships travel faster than light? Or did you just have to find a really long book for the journey here?
I want a beffel. Can you get me one?
Ever heard of a planet called Eggidoodlebopper? I knew a guy from there, we went to high school together.
Neither is close. The creation of the “universe” as you percieve it was more like a byproduct of a bakesale.
Jackson is the sole survivor from an unfortunate expirment in the Wacko Sickondrus System. They don’t want him back.
Yes. We have to issue Reader’s Digest condensed versions of novels for in flight reading.
That isn’t what you really want.
Sure it is.
Your classmate did the brown acid, didn’t he?
In fifth grade? I hope not. His version of the story was that his name was Bloo Spi, and he came to this planet and allowed [name of kid] to go and live as a Pan-Dimensional Cosmic Entity in some other dimension. So he was stuck here. Kind of a weird guy, really.
Excuse me? I’m the omnipotent extraterrestial around here. I know what you really want, and a beffel ain’t it.
Brown acid, lead paint chips…something like that.