biped
Mr. Wonderful
Member Rated:
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| And now...HEEEERE'S...DOG ON BALL!!! | |
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| HEE HAW!!! ME JUST FLY IN FROM VEGAS!!! BOY, ME ARMS TIRED!!! BEEP-BEEP!!! | |
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First guest -- Ridley Scott
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| Well, Dog On Ball...I consider my latest directorial effort to be a distinct stylistic departure from -- | |
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| MEOW!!! ME LIKE HOPALONG CASSIDY MOVIES!!! WHO AM YOU, BUTTFACE? GRRRR!!! | |
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Second guest -- actor Billy Zane
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| ...so, right after Jim Cameron yelled "cut", I said to Kate Winslet, "Kate" -- | |
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| HEE HAW!!! ME GET CHAINSAW AND KILL YOU WITH IT!!! VROOM-VROOM!!! ME RACE CAR!!! | |
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| Dat's right, Andy...you gives me fo' hunnut dollahs, and I'll sells you dis here gen-yoo-ine indivisible mink stole so's you can git in good wiff yo girlfren again... | |
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| Hmm...dat souns lahk a real good deal, alright...I'll take it, Kingfish. | |
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| You mean da Kingfish done swindled me again, Amos? Holy mackul, I's resgusted. | |
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| Ah'm afraid so, Andy...and dis sho is a dirty low-down scheme, even fo' de Kingfish. | |
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| Now hole on dere, Andy...ain't no need for you to get all indignified and go pugilatin' on me...here, I'll throw dis bona-fried see-through hyena-skin coat inta de bargain... | |
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| Well, now you talkin', Kingfish! My gal is sho gone be extry sweet on me when she see dis. | |
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NARRATOR: Today's poem..."Dairy Maid, Monster Suckler."
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| Down the street, and up the block...near the solid waste processing plant...lives a little girl named Dairy Maid...who smells like Cary Grant. | |
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| Her dreams are filled with bovine love...of cows in torrid, tongue-swept smooches...swapping cud with swarthy farmers...'midst droppings left by bitter pooches. | |
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NARRATOR: I get to do a verse in the next panel...
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| And when the sun bursts through the clouds...and shines its rays upon her hump...then Dairy Maid jumps up and down...upon the corpse of Forrest Gump. | |
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| The bloody corpse of Forrest Gump...the rotting, oozing, rancid corpse...that Dairy Maid shines heat lamps on...until it shrivels, pops, and warps. | |
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NARRATOR: (ahem) But as the cows in lip-lock swoon...their teats unmilked, as passion mounts...she dreams of Carrot Top's "equipment"...on which she'd like to jump and pounce.
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| Milk, and cheese, and chicken eggs...Milton Berle, and Seth Green's legs...the smell of Raymond Burr's behind...go swirling through her fevered mind. | |
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| And now the farmers and the cows...have mutant children in their lust...which Dairy Maid will volunteer...to suckle with her ample bust. | |
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--- Legend, oh legend, the third wheel legend...always in the way.
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