|QUEEFBLADE: Chapter Two continued.
The cave man descended from the tree, ripping down the zipline like a banshee with rhea.
You have made an unwise choice to come sneaking thorough our town. I am Parfeezal Trapnokorf. Most know me as Karate Dick Hinkelson. Rotdick for short. King of Tar Shits, among other claims to superiority.
Weve got things of great value to exchange for our stay here. You like football phones? Calculators? Ball point pens? He have all sorts of treasures, said Queefblade. For instance, have you seen the latest in hot careers. This is the fuckin knife sharpeners bible. With the knowledge burning in this single book, you could open up a profitable knife sharpening kiosk for as little as six hundred dollars. You would make back your money in lawn mowing season alone.
Now how much would this book set me back? Rotdick questioned?
Friend, for you. Im gonna offer this prize to you. Cause we go way back. Im gonna offer this prize to you for six more minutes in Tar Shits.
Granted! proclaimed Rotdick. What about you Miss Barzag? You do want to stay for the finally dont you? You can make it?
Im willing to offer
Whens the last time you had a world class ab workout?
It would have been about five minutes ago. I was breeding with some sea monkeys and then I pumped out a couple dozen crunches.
Perfect. Than you should try out this machine. Its made of space age poly-urethane so it wont buckle. Its got a shelf for the corned beef. And its dishwasher safe.
This better not be one of those chop shop jobs. Where you insert your pud and its torn apart by a garden weasel?
Would I have gotten this far without a heavy duty plastics connection?
Hey. Barzag. I dont want you playing groan darts with the cave men, said Queefblade. We have to make it past the fields to the top of that hill before this trip is over.
I have time for a dip in that river of THC, right?
Just keep it quick and dont forget the roofballs.