Bacon tastes gooood. Pork chops taste gooood.
That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.
Are you talking to me? Are you talking to ME? They call me MISTER Piiiig!
One morning I shot an elephant in my pajamas. How he got in my pajamas, I don’t know.
Okay, this is me, planting an idea in your mind. I say: don’t think about elephants. What are you thinking about?
Looks like I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue.
The point is, how do you know the fairy isn’t a crazy glue sniffer? “Building model airplanes” says the little fairy; well, we’re not buying it. He sneaks into your house once, that’s all it takes. The next thing you know, there’s money missing off the dresser, and your daughter’s knocked up. I seen it a hundred times.
They’re um… tooth fairies. Black Forest, 3rd century. They feed mostly on calcium: bones, skin, organs… But they do usually go after the teeth first. Hence the name, “tooth fairy”.
All the animals come out at night - whores, skunk pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies, sick, venal. Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets.
Rape, torture, fire, animals, religion. Am I missing anything?
I want rustlers, cut throats, murderers, bounty hunters, desperados, mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, halfwits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, con men, Indian agents, Mexican bandits, muggers, buggerers, bushwhackers, hornswogglers, horse thieves, bull dykes, train robbers, bank robbers, ass-kickers, shit-kickers and Methodists.
What I want from each and every one of you is a hard-target search of every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse in that area.
I don’t know. A prisoner has the right to escape, hasn’t he? And a guest don’t need to.
I guess that makes us a little bit of both, huh?
One man is born a hero, his brother a coward. Babies starve, politicians grow fat. Holy men are martyred, and junkies grow legion. Why? Why, why, why, why, why? Luck! Blind, stupid, simple, doo-dah, clueless luck!
You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.
Then you are either very brave … or very foolish! :dubious:
I thought you were incredibly brave. And I mean that in strictly the most clinical and professional sense possible, with no emotional, intimate, sexual, or any other undertones that you could possibly infer.
What makes a king out of a slave? Courage! What makes the flag on the mast to wave? Courage! What makes the elephant charge his tusk in the misty mist, or the dusky dusk? What makes the muskrat guard his musk? Courage! What makes the sphinx the seventh wonder? Courage! What makes the dawn come up like thunder? Courage! What makes the Hottentot so hot? What puts the “ape” in apricot? What have they got that I ain’t got?
Ah! He plays with Death as if it were a toy!
And over here, our bass player, the Duke of Spook, the Doc of Shock, The Man with No Tan, please say hello to Death himself, the Grim Reaper.