|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| Papa-san! Come on into Platypus town, where we masticate the marshmallowy goodness of God's Green Penis. | |
 | |  |
|
 |
| | |
| Son, you sound like you're hopped up on goofballs. | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |
| Only the whim of necrophilia can keep the sausage-like blister of Babylon from usurping my righteous lummox, beyotch! | |
| | |
|
|
| | |
| All right, you whackjob, I'm taking you in. Don't try anything funny. | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |
| Satisfaction, you mandible! I've got three mountains of ennui and an off-shore bacon shaving kit! | |
| | |
|
|
| | |
| I hope you stay this incoherent after I've assraped you in the back of my cruiser. | |
| | |
|
|
|
