Lord Sutray! Once more I fail to gain heed of the red one! I require a ride to tonight's holy rituals!

--
Ich benötige Zeit, nicht Heroin, nicht Alkohol, nicht Nicotin. Ich benötige keine Hilfe oder Koffein. Aber ich benötige Dynamit und Terpentin. Ich benötige Öl für Treibstoff, explosiv wie Kerosin, mit Losen Oktan und vom kein Blei.

You alive Nagol?

--
"Pass the snow I caught your visage.
A blackened gloomy hue.
Though in moonlight you were drowning.
No light shined upon you."

- Bruce A Jordan's "The Red Stranger."

Me: "We'll have to resort to the ol' cover Logan in bacon and barbacue trick instead of using the moltov...Draven drunk all the vodka."

You: "Then what's in the bottle?"

Me: "His urine."

Draven: "HEY! I really had to go! And I had to hide my scent from that creepy hunter that we saw near that Mcdonalds down the road so... I -uh- decided to drink the boose and wizz in the bottle. Is that so wrongified?"

You: "Why didn't you just pee in that toilet placed conviently in the middle of the railroad tracks, then flush?"

Admiral Ackbar: "Because it's a TRAP!"

Me: "For the love God! That's the most deformed witch I've ever seen!" *Beats the admiral with a railroad spike. You shove a pipe bomb up his you- know-what and we kick him down a hill, where he stops next to the local gas station*

Pipe Bomb: Beep...Beep...Beep-beep.

*Explosion.*

*There's a horridly girly scream as Admiral Ackbar burns alive.*

You (Panting and sweating): "Well that problem's over with...

Me: "Funny, I thought a explosion like that would've alerted a horde."

*Draven for some reason opens the bottle and sniffs his pee.*

Draven: "Holy pith! That smells like crap!"

*Draven sniffs it again, sneezes, then chucks the bottle down the hill. The sound carries down the hill and the bottle rolls down to the gas station. Suddenly the echo of the faint sneeze alerts a giant horde of hungry undead to the burning station. They swarm the now shrieking kentucky-fried Ackbar... As they start nibbling away at his inards. And as soon as things look like they can't get worse, the piss-bottle lands on spills in his eyes and Willy Johnson ,dressed up as a Hunter, pounces his face.



Me: We'll sucks to be him... He, where's Nagol?"

You: "He's using the toilet. hE' Should've known those BicMac patties he found at the Mcdonalds would have rotted by now in a zombie apoclypse."

Draven: "NOOOO! It's a trapification! Didn't you hear the squid-dude, Nagol!"

*Suddenly a hoard of zombies in a tie-die pimped- out train cart barrel towards Nagol and the conviently place toilet. One zombie is wearing a sparkly, snazzy conductors hat. It's Micheal Jackson... he's has returned from the dead*

Me: "We're gonna need bigger guns..."

To be continued?

Nagol: Oh crap! O crap!

Me, you, and Draven: WIPE FASTER NAGOL!

To be continued by YOU! On my deviant page Rusted Railwaystation.

--
"Pass the snow I caught your visage.
A blackened gloomy hue.
Though in moonlight you were drowning.
No light shined upon you."

- Bruce A Jordan's "The Red Stranger."

--
"Pass the snow I caught your visage.
A blackened gloomy hue.
Though in moonlight you were drowning.
No light shined upon you."

- Bruce A Jordan's "The Red Stranger."

Oh ye who hast received the flying-pimp slap of the highest of plague angels, I beseech thee! I have been unable to gain attention of the red one, and am in dire need of the answers he must give to my questions!

--
Ich benötige Zeit, nicht Heroin, nicht Alkohol, nicht Nicotin. Ich benötige keine Hilfe oder Koffein. Aber ich benötige Dynamit und Terpentin. Ich benötige Öl für Treibstoff, explosiv wie Kerosin, mit Losen Oktan und vom kein Blei.