 Angel_Noir: "Trojan?" "Oil...can..." "Yeah, yeah. Lubricated." "Sweet!" *Wokka Chicka Wokka Chicka* |
 BuckFifty: *type type type* "Say, what'cha doin' XT-14?" "NOTHING... um, E-trading." "Who's 'Creamy Buttercup'?" "Aw shit... *sparks*" |
 Angel_Noir: Jennifer Tilly and David Bowie prepare to land Apollo 11 on the moon on the next "Poorly Researched HBO Mini Series." |
 AgentQ: Julie hated walking past that seat. She knew that stupid tribble was gonna up and multiply any second. |
 JediClone: In case of a crash landing, the flight attendant's face will slam into the overhead compartment. Her exposed brain may be used as a flotation device. |
 E_B_A: "Dad! Adolph Hitler followed me home! Can I keep him!? I'll take good care of him! I PRIOMISE!" |
 E_B_A: "I need to go... the police have surrounded my house and are firing livestock through the walls." |
 Occupant: "Forget it Mabel! They're out of tampons!" |
 E_B_A: And in the midst of the dirty, seedy landfill, cells join in what could only be described as an aberration of nature, forming: "Hi! Call Psychic Talk USA now!" |
 E_B_A: The skull of Janet Reno was a big draw for museum crowds across the country. |
 anti_hero: The USS Rusty Nail |
 E_B_A: The South Carolina Space Program was off to a bad start. |
 E_B_A: "See? With enough shots of Goldslauger I don't even feel the stove's heating elements. Now you try it, son..." |
 GuloGulo: Even balancing a Maglight on his head while changing his brakepads didn't impress the admissions board at Harvard. |
 E_B_A: Deep inside the Etch-A-Sketch, an underpaid Mexican slaves away forming the various lines and squares. |
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