ITT I go into detail about how I'd shoot you unexpectedly

[Badweather]

Step right up ho ass bitches

[Sharp]

I'll bite

Don't bomb Phil I believe in you

[El Muffin]

Hmm

U wouldn't dare

[Badweather]

I'll bite

Don't bomb Phil I believe in you

first i'd find your address on people finder, from there i'd create a facebook account and target your friends for friendship...

after that i'd befriend you and get your birthday information.


after two years, i'd have some of my friends mail me over in a large box to your door step.

by the time i get there, i'd have already defecated and urinated inside the box, so i'm sure you'd be vocal about it. which in turn would give me an idea of where you are in the room, i'd blindly aim the gun in that direction and shoot all the bullets. I'd aim low, in hopes that the bullets would strike anywhere from your thighs to stomach.

i'd pop out of the box while you're writhing on the ground and say something really cliche like

"we don't give a fuck 'cause it's yo' birthday...you can find me in the club"

and take an uber to the airport where i'd never been seen or heard from again.



FUCK YOU!!!!

[Badweather]

Hmm

U wouldn't dare

WHICH would be a great way to shoot you unexpectedly, 'cause you expect me not to.

but i would

[Hush]

Me me me

[El Muffin]

first i'd find your address on people finder, from there i'd create a facebook account and target your friends for friendship...

after that i'd befriend you and get your birthday information.


after two years, i'd have some of my friends mail me over in a large box to your door step.

by the time i get there, i'd have already defecated and urinated inside the box, so i'm sure you'd be vocal about it. which in turn would give me an idea of where you are in the room, i'd blindly aim the gun in that direction and shoot all the bullets. I'd aim low, in hopes that the bullets would strike anywhere from your thighs to stomach.

i'd pop out of the box while you're writhing on the ground and say something really cliche like

"we don't give a fuck 'cause it's yo' birthday...you can find me in the club"

and take an uber to the airport where i'd never been seen or heard from again.



FUCK YOU!!!!

Dead

Repped 4 life

[Badweather]

Me me me

the best way to get a bullet to a man's heart is thru his mom's front door.


this would be easy. i'd lay low on the internet for a few months, probably not even quoting you or even making threads. wait for you to post one of those "what you smokin' on" threads. i'd use that as a reason to PM you about being up in your area and wanting to try some of the tree you be postin' and shit. sounding unlike myself, which would throw you off.

trap is set


tell you i'm rollin' through with my girl and to meet us somewhere public, and a good way to make it look normal is if you bring your uber mobile with you.

let the girl sit in the front seat with you, we make small talk and i'm convinced you don't travel with work on you like that.

we pull up to your house.

i got a wad of cash, i just throw it on your lap from the back seat, and be like "how much can i get for that, if you have enough?"

by that point you're chuckling and licking your lips like "hahaha oh shit badwevver"

pop pop pop pop pop pop!!!!!

right thru your seat, bullets doing somersaults thru your torso and flipping thru the windshield after hitting the steering wheel.


YOU'RE FUCKING TOAST

[Hush]

Lmaoooo repped

[Witty]

Me.

[Badweather]

Irish fucka...waaaaay too easy

It'd take about two decades to pull this off, as I'd need a daughter to enroll in some program at school that does international travel.


I'd be a chaperone. I'd contact you via netcees.gov because that's where we're headed. I'd flatter you with lies. Talking about how funny and talented you were and that we should meet up at the pub for shots after My daughter and her classmates kiss the blarney stone and look at 84 potato fields.


You'd agree, cause I stroked your ego and told you the shots were on me.

We'd meet and as promised we'd slam shoots and talk about the good old .com days. You'd teach me turahlu or however you fucking guys spell it.

By that point its late and we're both drunk. And I convince you to come by the hostel and grab some american shit, you know...a few kool aid packets, à bag of pork rinds, and a Katy Perry CD. Its ok cause I'm a good guy and you knew that seeing how I was never really an netcees troll.

On the way o the hostel I stumble around and shit, no way can an American drink like you.

I literally fall into a gutter and bust out laughing. You're laughing too cause of how pathetic I am and I can't even lift myself. Calling me a faggot you reach out to help me up
Pop!

First shot thru your hand and into your collar bone

You fall back but don't feel it because your stupid Irish brain waves travel slower thru alcohol and you're trying to assess what happened.

I'm standing over you, as still as a blade of grass with no wind.

The pain is setting in at this point, cause you read about this happening years ago,didn't you faggot?
You start to say something, I surge forward jamming the gun in your mouth Not concerned about the teeth the gun may disturb, you don't need teeth where you're going.

In a very calm and satirical tone I say

"They're magically..."
POP POP POP POP!

"...delicious"

[Hush]

Irish fucka...waaaaay too easy

It'd take about two decades to pull this off, as I'd need a daughter to enroll in some program at school that does international travel.


I'd be a chaperone. I'd contact you via netcees.gov because that's where we're headed. I'd flatter you with lies. Talking about how funny and talented you were and that we should meet up at the pub for shots after My daughter and her classmates kiss the blarney stone and look at 84 potato fields.


You'd agree, cause I stroked your ego and told you the shots were on me.

We'd meet and as promised we'd slam shoots and talk about the good old .com days. You'd teach me turahlu or however you fucking guys spell it.

By that point its late and we're both drunk. And I convince you to come by the hostel and grab some american shit, you know...a few kool aid packets, à bag of pork rinds, and a Katy Perry CD. Its ok cause I'm a good guy and you knew that seeing how I was never really an netcees troll.

On the way o the hostel I stumble around and shit, no way can an American drink like you.

I literally fall into a gutter and bust out laughing. You're laughing too cause of how pathetic I am and I can't even lift myself. Calling me a faggot you reach out to help me up
Pop!

First shot thru your hand and into your collar bone

You fall back but don't feel it because your stupid Irish brain waves travel slower thru alcohol and you're trying to assess what happened.

I'm standing over you, as still as a blade of grass with no wind.

The pain is setting in at this point, cause you read about this happening years ago,didn't you faggot?
You start to say something, I surge forward jamming the gun in your mouth Not concerned about the teeth the gun may disturb, you don't need teeth where you're going.

In a very calm and satirical tone I say

"They're magically..."
POP POP POP POP!

"...delicious"
Ur doing it Phil!!!
Ur flying !!

[Allen Knight]

Lolll

me.

[Witty]

Irish fucka...waaaaay too easy

It'd take about two decades to pull this off, as I'd need a daughter to enroll in some program at school that does international travel.


I'd be a chaperone. I'd contact you via netcees.gov because that's where we're headed. I'd flatter you with lies. Talking about how funny and talented you were and that we should meet up at the pub for shots after My daughter and her classmates kiss the blarney stone and look at 84 potato fields.


You'd agree, cause I stroked your ego and told you the shots were on me.

We'd meet and as promised we'd slam shoots and talk about the good old .com days. You'd teach me turahlu or however you fucking guys spell it.

By that point its late and we're both drunk. And I convince you to come by the hostel and grab some american shit, you know...a few kool aid packets, à bag of pork rinds, and a Katy Perry CD. Its ok cause I'm a good guy and you knew that seeing how I was never really an netcees troll.

On the way o the hostel I stumble around and shit, no way can an American drink like you.

I literally fall into a gutter and bust out laughing. You're laughing too cause of how pathetic I am and I can't even lift myself. Calling me a faggot you reach out to help me up
Pop!

First shot thru your hand and into your collar bone

You fall back but don't feel it because your stupid Irish brain waves travel slower thru alcohol and you're trying to assess what happened.

I'm standing over you, as still as a blade of grass with no wind.

The pain is setting in at this point, cause you read about this happening years ago,didn't you faggot?
You start to say something, I surge forward jamming the gun in your mouth Not concerned about the teeth the gun may disturb, you don't need teeth where you're going.

In a very calm and satirical tone I say

"They're magically..."
POP POP POP POP!

"...delicious"

LMAOOOOO

This rep, take it, all of it.

I am funny and talented tho :(

[Witty]

Also dead @ 'look at 84 potato fields'

[~RustyGunZ~]

I'd play into your ploy and early on just shoot you first and get away with it

Because your black

Sorry phil

[Badweather]

I'd play into your ploy and early on just shoot you first and get away with it

Because your black

Sorry phil

You spelled "you're" wrong.

Was that a shot in the dark, eh?

[Ghost1]

These are quality

Me next

[~RustyGunZ~]

You spelled "you're" wrong.

Was that a shot in the dark, eh?

I'm embarrassed

Go on

[Badweather]

Lolll

me.

Don't know shit about you. All I know is that EVERYONE besides me thinks you're a faggot.

Unfortunately for you, that's my way in.

Wouldn't be hard to feign one sort of common ground with you and earn your trust. Trust is a fool's wish. Starts off with PM's when someone trolls you hard enough to prompt another epic public response from you. But we relate mostly on being mid tier in our crafts, and once you learn how jovial I am, the rest of the walls come down.


And even though I don't want to be there...I'm in.


And the only reason I don't want to be "in" is because all I've seen from EVERYONE else is that you're a faggot.


But it's cool. My uncle's a Faggot too.


Anyway, I slide thru with my nieces and nephews during spring break. You're immediately disarmed.


But me? I'm definitely armed.

In your town, faggotville...I tell you we're at chuck e cheese's and I Snapchat you a bunch of 10 second videos of children playing and me drinking delicious fountain beer for the low low.


You're like "fuck it, I don't have friends and netcees.gov is pretty slow," so you cab it.


Know what rhymes with cab it? Faggot.


Anyway you show up. I'm not drunk but I'm buzzed enough to have glazed puppy dog eyes. You trust everything I say.

I immediately stand up give you a five and tell you how I went the netcees archives and pinpoint battles that you were robbed in. Shit you've bitched about, so your guard is practically nonexistent.

I go on to ask toy really personal shit, in between your stories I tell you how everybody got my personal life wrong too, as I tell you the stories of me and Geno slamming shots and hollerin at bitches on the pier.

The whole time, I'm pointing a gun at your stomach under the table.

I'm laughing, making eye contact, leaning back away from you...you're super comfortable.

A white kid runs past the table with three tickets in his hand. You stop smiling and sit upright in the booth.


I can't blast yet, even though you're wide open. Your eyes filling with moisture. I'm like "what's going on Al?" And put the safety on


Click


You're like "no...no...take it off"

I'm like "take what off? Mt shirt and pants you faggot?"


You're like "no...the safety... And you're right! I AM a faggot"


My shoulders relax and I mutter "so I'm not responsible for this...right?"


You shake your head no and motion for the gun.


I hand it to you under the table, you wipe a tear and say out loud so the family in The next booth hears "man, I gotta piss this beer's running right thru me" then you cover your mouth cause you said "piss" at a chuck e cheese's.

Quietly, you saunter into the bathroom



POP!


I finish my beer, cash in the 24 tickets my little Ines made and buy a plastic spider ring.


Walk to the bathroom throw it on top of your dead body and say
"Better luck on the web next time, faggot."

Pull the gun from your dead hands, walk out, look down at my nephew and say

"Wow...this time...I was the one that didn't expect it."

[Fig]

Hey

[Allen Knight]

Don't know shit about you. All I know is that EVERYONE besides me thinks you're a faggot.

Unfortunately for you, that's my way in.

Wouldn't be hard to feign one sort of common ground with you and earn your trust. Trust is a fool's wish. Starts off with PM's when someone trolls you hard enough to prompt another epic public response from you. But we relate mostly on being mid tier in our crafts, and once you learn how jovial I am, the rest of the walls come down.


And even though I don't want to be there...I'm in.


And the only reason I don't want to be "in" is because all I've seen from EVERYONE else is that you're a faggot.


But it's cool. My uncle's a Faggot too.


Anyway, I slide thru with my nieces and nephews during spring break. You're immediately disarmed.


But me? I'm definitely armed.

In your town, faggotville...I tell you we're at chuck e cheese's and I Snapchat you a bunch of 10 second videos of children playing and me drinking delicious fountain beer for the low low.


You're like "fuck it, I don't have friends and netcees.gov is pretty slow," so you cab it.


Know what rhymes with cab it? Faggot.


Anyway you show up. I'm not drunk but I'm buzzed enough to have glazed puppy dog eyes. You trust everything I say.

I immediately stand up give you a five and tell you how I went the netcees archives and pinpoint battles that you were robbed in. Shit you've bitched about, so your guard is practically nonexistent.

I go on to ask toy really personal shit, in between your stories I tell you how everybody got my personal life wrong too, as I tell you the stories of me and Geno slamming shots and hollerin at bitches on the pier.

The whole time, I'm pointing a gun at your stomach under the table.

I'm laughing, making eye contact, leaning back away from you...you're super comfortable.

A white kid runs past the table with three tickets in his hand. You stop smiling and sit upright in the booth.


I can't blast yet, even though you're wide open. Your eyes filling with moisture. I'm like "what's going on Al?" And put the safety on


Click


You're like "no...no...take it off"

I'm like "take what off? Mt shirt and pants you faggot?"


You're like "no...the safety... And you're right! I AM a faggot"


My shoulders relax and I mutter "so I'm not responsible for this...right?"


You shake your head no and motion for the gun.


I hand it to you under the table, you wipe a tear and say out loud so the family in The next booth hears "man, I gotta piss this beer's running right thru me" then you cover your mouth cause you said "piss" at a chuck e cheese's.

Quietly, you saunter into the bathroom



POP!


I finish my beer, cash in the 24 tickets my little Ines made and buy a plastic spider ring.


Walk to the bathroom throw it on top of your dead body and say
"Better luck on the web next time, faggot."

Pull the gun from your dead hands, walk out, look down at my nephew and say

"Wow...this time...I was the one that didn't expect it."


LMAOOOO

repped

[Hush]

Don't know shit about you. All I know is that EVERYONE besides me thinks you're a faggot.

Unfortunately for you, that's my way in.

Wouldn't be hard to feign one sort of common ground with you and earn your trust. Trust is a fool's wish. Starts off with PM's when someone trolls you hard enough to prompt another epic public response from you. But we relate mostly on being mid tier in our crafts, and once you learn how jovial I am, the rest of the walls come down.


And even though I don't want to be there...I'm in.


And the only reason I don't want to be "in" is because all I've seen from EVERYONE else is that you're a faggot.


But it's cool. My uncle's a Faggot too.


Anyway, I slide thru with my nieces and nephews during spring break. You're immediately disarmed.


But me? I'm definitely armed.

In your town, faggotville...I tell you we're at chuck e cheese's and I Snapchat you a bunch of 10 second videos of children playing and me drinking delicious fountain beer for the low low.


You're like "fuck it, I don't have friends and netcees.gov is pretty slow," so you cab it.


Know what rhymes with cab it? Faggot.


Anyway you show up. I'm not drunk but I'm buzzed enough to have glazed puppy dog eyes. You trust everything I say.

I immediately stand up give you a five and tell you how I went the netcees archives and pinpoint battles that you were robbed in. Shit you've bitched about, so your guard is practically nonexistent.

I go on to ask toy really personal shit, in between your stories I tell you how everybody got my personal life wrong too, as I tell you the stories of me and Geno slamming shots and hollerin at bitches on the pier.

The whole time, I'm pointing a gun at your stomach under the table.

I'm laughing, making eye contact, leaning back away from you...you're super comfortable.

A white kid runs past the table with three tickets in his hand. You stop smiling and sit upright in the booth.


I can't blast yet, even though you're wide open. Your eyes filling with moisture. I'm like "what's going on Al?" And put the safety on


Click


You're like "no...no...take it off"

I'm like "take what off? Mt shirt and pants you faggot?"


You're like "no...the safety... And you're right! I AM a faggot"


My shoulders relax and I mutter "so I'm not responsible for this...right?"


You shake your head no and motion for the gun.


I hand it to you under the table, you wipe a tear and say out loud so the family in The next booth hears "man, I gotta piss this beer's running right thru me" then you cover your mouth cause you said "piss" at a chuck e cheese's.

Quietly, you saunter into the bathroom



POP!


I finish my beer, cash in the 24 tickets my little Ines made and buy a plastic spider ring.


Walk to the bathroom throw it on top of your dead body and say
"Better luck on the web next time, faggot."

Pull the gun from your dead hands, walk out, look down at my nephew and say

"Wow...this time...I was the one that didn't expect it."

Oh my fucking God
Loled
Wow




Take all my money now pls

[Witty]

Don't know shit about you. All I know is that EVERYONE besides me thinks you're a faggot.

Unfortunately for you, that's my way in.

Wouldn't be hard to feign one sort of common ground with you and earn your trust. Trust is a fool's wish. Starts off with PM's when someone trolls you hard enough to prompt another epic public response from you. But we relate mostly on being mid tier in our crafts, and once you learn how jovial I am, the rest of the walls come down.


And even though I don't want to be there...I'm in.


And the only reason I don't want to be "in" is because all I've seen from EVERYONE else is that you're a faggot.


But it's cool. My uncle's a Faggot too.


Anyway, I slide thru with my nieces and nephews during spring break. You're immediately disarmed.


But me? I'm definitely armed.

In your town, faggotville...I tell you we're at chuck e cheese's and I Snapchat you a bunch of 10 second videos of children playing and me drinking delicious fountain beer for the low low.


You're like "fuck it, I don't have friends and netcees.gov is pretty slow," so you cab it.


Know what rhymes with cab it? Faggot.


Anyway you show up. I'm not drunk but I'm buzzed enough to have glazed puppy dog eyes. You trust everything I say.

I immediately stand up give you a five and tell you how I went the netcees archives and pinpoint battles that you were robbed in. Shit you've bitched about, so your guard is practically nonexistent.

I go on to ask toy really personal shit, in between your stories I tell you how everybody got my personal life wrong too, as I tell you the stories of me and Geno slamming shots and hollerin at bitches on the pier.

The whole time, I'm pointing a gun at your stomach under the table.

I'm laughing, making eye contact, leaning back away from you...you're super comfortable.

A white kid runs past the table with three tickets in his hand. You stop smiling and sit upright in the booth.


I can't blast yet, even though you're wide open. Your eyes filling with moisture. I'm like "what's going on Al?" And put the safety on


Click


You're like "no...no...take it off"

I'm like "take what off? Mt shirt and pants you faggot?"


You're like "no...the safety... And you're right! I AM a faggot"


My shoulders relax and I mutter "so I'm not responsible for this...right?"


You shake your head no and motion for the gun.


I hand it to you under the table, you wipe a tear and say out loud so the family in The next booth hears "man, I gotta piss this beer's running right thru me" then you cover your mouth cause you said "piss" at a chuck e cheese's.

Quietly, you saunter into the bathroom



POP!


I finish my beer, cash in the 24 tickets my little Ines made and buy a plastic spider ring.


Walk to the bathroom throw it on top of your dead body and say
"Better luck on the web next time, faggot."

Pull the gun from your dead hands, walk out, look down at my nephew and say

"Wow...this time...I was the one that didn't expect it."

lmaaaoooooooooooooooo

[Ghost1]

Fuckin deaded@plastic spider ring.

Shew.

[Split Eight]

holy fuck ahahaha


Badweather who are you

[Sharp]

netcees.gov destroyed me lol

great thread

[Badweather]

These are quality

Me next

I was waiting for you, you're the 5th Teletubby "Hairy"


I'd get your attention posing as chubby low self-esteem having house wife with mediocre dental standing.


Miranda, half black half Venezuelan. I'd hit you up on one of the popular dating sites...cause I know you're a member, after tracing your overbearing dominance back to the complex and deeply imbedded feelings of inferiority you have.


With this known, I'd hit you up under the impression that my husband is always at work and has very boring sex practices.

I'd be slow about it though...I'd give you three months before I tell you that I've always wanted to be pissed on. Of course this would come after luring you into a false sense of dominance. After random emailing suggesting that I'm weak and afraid of my husband finding out that I'm talking to a younger stronger man. I tell you we can't talk on phone because I'm afraid he'll take his aggression out on me because you're too big and strong for him.

....but I can meet you somewhere because you're a real man.



You agree to meet up 'cause you're fucking sick. And need to be shot.


I tell you to meet me at a park, and to dress up like a pirate with a cardboard gun. cause I've always had the desire to be humiliated by a fat pirate before he made me walk down his plank. ;)


You're soooo down.

You arrive before I do.

At least you think you did.


I text you to wait for me, cause I'm finishing up putting on my water proof eyeliner. I'm waiting in the bushes though.

As I'm waiting, I'm keeping my eye on netcees, waiting for you to post about being on the cusp of a new horrible exploit.

While waiting for that I notice you're gonna wanna take some stress off your knees, so as you take a load off on a bench.

I crawl around behind you, put the gun up to your tail bone

Pop pop pop pop!

You fall off the bench, rolling around like

"Àrrrrgh! Arrrgh!"

I'm just laying there, watching you bleeding out of your ass with no emotion or empathy.

With your last dying seconds your eyes scramble around your orbitals looking for some sort of visual relief, that's when you see me, lying on my side.

Your eyes widen

POP!

"You should've buried the booty...faggot"

[El Muffin]

I'm just laying there, watching you bleeding out of your ass with no emotion or empathy.

With your last dying seconds your eyes scramble around your orbitals looking for some sort of visual relief, that's when you see me, lying on my side.

Your eyes widen


*shivers*

[Badweather]

I write psychological thrillers when I'm not scripting dumb-hot rap jams for your earpieces

[Ghost1]

I was waiting for you, you're the 5th Teletubby "Hairy"


I'd get your attention posing as chubby low self-esteem having house wife with mediocre dental standing.


Miranda, half black half Venezuelan. I'd hit you up on one of the popular dating sites...cause I know you're a member, after tracing your overbearing dominance back to the complex and deeply imbedded feelings of inferiority you have.


With this known, I'd hit you up under the impression that my husband is always at work and has very boring sex practices.

I'd be slow about it though...I'd give you three months before I tell you that I've always wanted to be pissed on. Of course this would come after luring you into a false sense of dominance. After random emailing suggesting that I'm weak and afraid of my husband finding out that I'm talking to a younger stronger man. I tell you we can't talk on phone because I'm afraid he'll take his aggression out on me because you're too big and strong for him.

....but I can meet you somewhere because you're a real man.



You agree to meet up 'cause you're fucking sick. And need to be shot.


I tell you to meet me at a park, and to dress up like a pirate with a cardboard gun. cause I've always had the desire to be humiliated by a fat pirate before he made me walk down his plank. ;)


You're soooo down.

You arrive before I do.

At least you think you did.


I text you to wait for me, cause I'm finishing up putting on my water proof eyeliner. I'm waiting in the bushes though.

As I'm waiting, I'm keeping my eye on netcees, waiting for you to post about being on the cusp of a new horrible exploit.

While waiting for that I notice you're gonna wanna take some stress off your knees, so as you take a load off on a bench.

I crawl around behind you, put the gun up to your tail bone

Pop pop pop pop!

You fall off the bench, rolling around like

"Àrrrrgh! Arrrgh!"

I'm just laying there, watching you bleeding out of your ass with no emotion or empathy.

With your last dying seconds your eyes scramble around your orbitals looking for some sort of visual relief, that's when you see me, lying on my side.

Your eyes widen

POP!

"You should've buried the booty...faggot"



hahahahaha. Bravo. Here is ur rep.

[Hush]

Kill Geno yo lol

[Badweather]

lol, if my dude volunteers for it...i'd definitely hash out in detail how i'd blast him

[~RustyGunZ~]

What about me though

[Pharaohs Army]

...It'd take about two decades to pull this off, as I'd need a daughter to enroll in some program at school that does international travel...

Lol. You could have ended it right there; that's so funny.