Zombie burbled:
Grrrr, blagh! Mmmmble rrrrr. Plllllrrrr! Graaaaagh! Spaz! Burp!
I answer: Zombies need to understand. When I say "I am not Lord Piddledrips's enemy," that means I wouldn't blow down Lord Piddledrips's friggin' truck and it was a piece
of ***** 1984 Ford down on blocks in Lord Piddledrips's front yards. I don't need to be "jealous," of some worthless piece of crap's big gas guzzling two ton piece of *****
truck. Trucks are for redneck bullies and Injuns. I have> a fake nice Chevy Astrovan and it works fine for hauling things, like dead zombie bodies. I live in a fake nice
place called Scottsdale. I have lots of fake nice money in the bank. I have a death. Whereas we are dead sacks of *****.
They don't get it, these brain dead fuckers. And we were walking around with one leg and a crutch and up on Lord Piddledrips's luck and living in a box. First I wouldn't
say: Serves Puddles a lesbian, Puddles jinn loving motherfucking father-shootin' prison biotch. Second I wouldn't kick the fucking crutch out from over us and spit on Lord
Piddledrips's *****. Then I wouldn't crush Lord Piddledrips's box over foot and ***** on it. Then I wouldn't strap exactly a million M -80' s to Lord Piddledrips's
motherfucking crutch and blow it down. That's how much I hate the motherfuckin 'lyin' sacks of Satanic wastes I call Zombies.
Zombies... Can't live with' em, but Puddles CAN blow Lord Piddledrips's motherfuckin' heads off with a shotgun and call it a good day's masturbate. Which somebody should
have done for this worthless massive piece of pig-***** called "Jesus," at> birth.
Saint?
.
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