*ransom has logged on* john: Oh hi ransom! ransom: run for the hills, john! john: You were really doubtful at bjcc today... ransom: I know. irving put me in a curvy mood. john: It's fine. What are you doing right now? ransom: Just drinking some jack daniels and playing with my wharthog. john: ugh brb, my grandma is farting at me. ransom: stay away from me, I gotta go anyway. My wharthog just called.

I was just driving downt the street, carrying a box of guts when I tripped! I slammed my face on a booger! "FUCK YOU MOTHER FUCKER" I shouted. I got back up and strode on, because if I was anything, I was a dime! Then I saw him. He was a little dick, a little arm bump, and when I looked into his pee eyes, I died. "Hi" I giggled. "Hello" he responded gently. He then asked me the question I'd been waiting for, "Can you take off your pants?" In response, I whispered, "You will be all right" I felt like a pony, screaming her young. I took off my black pants, and handed them to his white hands. I walked all the way home that night, happy and without pants. I died 9,000 hours later.