Hey I was meaning to ask you... do I really need to buy leather pasties when I go to Turkey? Someone told me it was a holiday custom to run up to complete strangers and pinch their nipples.
The funny thing is, he's laughed lite beer out his nose and it's like water. A good pale ale or tripel out the nose stings like shit. _
nice. Babies love tequila. You will be given a latitude and longitude. From there you will be taken into a van by 4 people in nondescript black clothing and ski masks and bound with zip ties and testicle clamps. You will be driven to a helipad. During this drive your captors will torture you to make sure you're not a government spy. They will give you many purple nurples. Upon arrival you will be blindfolded. Unbeknownst to you, the helipad will open up and reveal a secret submarine chamber. You will be placed inside the submarine and a recording of a helicopter noises will play to confuse you into thinking you are in flight. Eventually you will be forced into a capsule and told you are dumped into the ocean. The capsule will be jettisoned from the torpedo tubes. A team of ex navy seal divers turned alien abductees will receive your capsule from the ocean floor. They will guide it down into a trench straight into the opening of a volcanic rift. Only once inside the lava flow you see (by now the tears of your non-stop crying have loosed the blindfold and allowed you to shake it free from your eyes) that the lava is just a hologram disguising a obsidian rock forged bay door entrance. The entrance will be opened and the capsule guided into a sealed decompression chamber. Once the all the water is vacuum drained out the room will fill with a noxious gas that knocks out all the divers. A flock of starving mutated piranhas will then be released into the chamber and devour the divers, bones and all. They will then begin to naw at and start breaking the glass of your capsule and just when you shit your pants a trap door will open below you and you will drop into a 100 kilometer tube that will descend you way past the bowels of the earths crust into the upper mantle. Here you will be received into an adamantium encased spherical fortes tended to by small strikefoce of big tittied ninja dragon ladies led by a drunk viking overlord who will force you to consume copious amounts of whiskey, vodka, and not shitty beer, all while running on a treadmill and doing bicep curls. After months of training your testicle clamps will be removed (yes they've been on this whole time) and the sphere fortress will have travelled to the opposite end of the earth. A portal to the surface will open up and you will be placed in an airtight protective suit. The suit will have a insertion point in the rear where you will be hooked up to a large rectally controlled rocket and launched into the stratosphere of space directly from the upper mantle. There you will use your training to, with the power of your newly developed ass muscles, guide your craft towards the secret spacestation "Applebee's 1". Once inside a team of alien slaves will help refit you into more comfortable space clothes and lead you to the control room. There you will find a large metallic black swivel chair with its back turned to you. A voice from the chair will welcome you and introduce himself as the real Abyzmul and slowly turn around to reveal to you a eye-patch wearing, cigar smoking, incredibly cute, talking evil genius kitten.
Worst post of Drunk Tank. How do you expect me to read this while drunk? I hate you too. I will find byz, have a Coors Light with him and we will talk shit about you, Stokes and everybody not named Matt Robinson, Cman and Jaywayne. Coors Light for the win.
The next flask I own will be my first. The only reason I'm going is because there will be a clear delineation between the women cooing over bassinet liners inside and the men throwing washers and telling biker and trucker stories outside. The little victories.
I wanted to like you, but I hated you. Then I got my recon team to search every snigget of speech. Every tendency of behavior. Every nugget of snark. I have lived inside your syntax. I have done love-snuggles on top of your anger and irritation. I can only now conclude that you are my illegitimate hate-kitten. I now face-mush you with evil intentions. My lovely little creation.
