~*AiMeE*~ the Fish With X's For Eyes
"The purple man's nose has been impaled by Napoleon's large, jello flavored, pong system," said ~*GeRt*~ (Roughly translated: "Wussup?")
"Plastic cup is not coinciding Montana, but call my father's buttocks Francisis. Your little blue handgun is exploding. Mr. peanut butter is good," replied Hugh. (Roughly Translated: "Nothin'.")
Not being able to use her psycho powers--er, psychic powers-- ~*GeRt*~, with all her omniscient ~*GeRt-FuLLNeSs*~, walked up to Hugh, the mystic Gopher, and asked him his name. "Your ear smells like the rotted fruit of Jim the Cow. Will Percy sleep with the pink tortise's athletes foot?"
"Ahh, I recognize the little belly button slithering into your stinky bosom. Direct Sarah to Ross Perot's pot bellied pig." (Roughly Translated: None of your beeswax, female dog.)
With this, ~*GeRt*~ raised her ~*GeRt-iOuS*~ hand and mightily kicked Hugh's furry little ass. Hugh, in response, ran and hid.
A few neon-brown days later, the mystic Gopher, Hugh, and his "posse" ( a blind oppossum, two fat racoons, and a field mouse named "Franky" ) arrived at ~*GeRt*~'s window ( In "~*GeRt*~: 4:20" it is stated that all doors are evil, and the only real use for them is to lean your "achin' back" against, or to tie/handcuff someone to, in an act of kinky-ness). ~*GeRt*~, realizing this hilarious excuse for a "posse" had come to "busta cap in her Tuna ass," decided to use her amazing Tuna-Fishy powers against them. With a sudden burst of "Mmm, Mmm, Mmm good" energy, she ~*GeRt-iLy*~ reached into her silvery invisable pocket and pulled out a large, mystical, radioactive spork... the magical tongs plunged into the possessed head of... ::Bum bum BUM!!!:: Elmo.
"Abraham is deficating!!! DEFICATING!!!" (Roughly Translated: "AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!") The mystical Gopher by the name of Hugh, the blind oppossum, the two fat racoons, and the field mouse ( who frighteningly resembled the younger of the Hanson sisters ), ran "like a bitch" back to the cramped quarters of their run-down VW bus (which, scary as it is, was lime green), and drove the hell out of there.
Then, ~*GeRt*~ ~*GeRt-FuLLy*~ put her ~*GeRt-iNgLy*~ ~*GeRt-iSiOuS*~ hands on her ~*GeRt-Ee*~ hips and said in her loudest ~*GeRt*~ voice: "The graham cracker has subsided in New Mexico with the son of Richard Nixon." (Roughly Translated: "Ha! Ha! Ha!")
The moral of this story: Don't eat bread. Your luckdragon will leave you for a beaver... damned rodent... *cries*