Predator Press
[LOBO]
You people are really being tough on Babs; she is the light of my life ... my oxygen. One day I hope to bear her children.
So lay off.
Why, just yesterday she made one of my lifelong dreams come true: she bought me a basketball court-sized recording studio, and hired those guys from Metallica to help me record my album.
And when they showed up for the sound check, I made those jerks play dodgeball for six hours.
Thursday
When Squirrels Attack
Predator Press
[COBE]
LOBO's insured, certified, signature only, earliest-possible delivery Fed-Ex lie unopened under my ashtray, sticky from soaking up Santa's blood.
Santa had certainly seen better days.
The years of steroid abuse alone would have been difficult for to me to correct. But Santa had two compound fractures that would never heal properly, and one was riddled with gangrene. Several digits and one eye had been lost to carrion-scavenging animals. Mad in his agony, Kringle frothed and spat, straining against the table restraints.
I take a shot of Wild Turkey, and then pour some on his dry lips. "The shotgun blast, it turned out, was the least of the problems, my old friend," I explained through the surgical mask as I resumed pulling the dark stitches through his thick, muscular neck. "You were grazed for the most part. You're a very lucky man. Sapphire has rarely been known to miss before."
"Ho ho ho," Santa wheezed weakly through broken, bloodied teeth.
And then he fell asleep.
[COBE]
LOBO's insured, certified, signature only, earliest-possible delivery Fed-Ex lie unopened under my ashtray, sticky from soaking up Santa's blood.
Santa had certainly seen better days.
The years of steroid abuse alone would have been difficult for to me to correct. But Santa had two compound fractures that would never heal properly, and one was riddled with gangrene. Several digits and one eye had been lost to carrion-scavenging animals. Mad in his agony, Kringle frothed and spat, straining against the table restraints.
I take a shot of Wild Turkey, and then pour some on his dry lips. "The shotgun blast, it turned out, was the least of the problems, my old friend," I explained through the surgical mask as I resumed pulling the dark stitches through his thick, muscular neck. "You were grazed for the most part. You're a very lucky man. Sapphire has rarely been known to miss before."
"Ho ho ho," Santa wheezed weakly through broken, bloodied teeth.
And then he fell asleep.
Tuesday
Happy Yule Whatever
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Dear Santa,
I just heard you are still alive. Wow! They just don't make shotgun blasts and cliffs like they used to, eh?
Well, I just wanted you to know I've been a very, very good boy again despite these many years of neglect.
The following is a list of things that might be a great gift for, um, my nephew:
Aircraft Carrier
Weapons Grade Plutonium
Charlize Theron's non-restaining order protected Phone Number
Zombie Armor
Get Well Soon and hanks!
LOBO
[LOBO]
Dear Santa,
I just heard you are still alive. Wow! They just don't make shotgun blasts and cliffs like they used to, eh?
Well, I just wanted you to know I've been a very, very good boy again despite these many years of neglect.
The following is a list of things that might be a great gift for, um, my nephew:
Weapons Grade Plutonium
Charlize Theron's non-restaining order protected Phone Number
Zombie Armor
Get Well Soon and hanks!
LOBO
Incoming Wounded
Predator Press
[COBE]
Last month was boring; I spent the whole thing sifting through the blasted concrete of Hawley Enterprises' former parking lot; always, more parts.
Always more parts.
Santa, on the contrary, starving and bloody, askew on the jagged rocks, had been driven insane by two weeks of insufferable agony. He was easy prey.
Always more parts.
[COBE]
Last month was boring; I spent the whole thing sifting through the blasted concrete of Hawley Enterprises' former parking lot; always, more parts.
Always more parts.
Santa, on the contrary, starving and bloody, askew on the jagged rocks, had been driven insane by two weeks of insufferable agony. He was easy prey.
Always more parts.
Monday
Office Lunch Theft
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Due to the graphic nature of this post, I'm going to try and bury it; way under the "current", and well beneath the feeds.
This is solely for the people web-browsing that actually need this advice.
It is regarding office theft. In particular, the theft of people's lunches. I regard this as one of the lowest crimes you can commit against hard-working, honest people.
Now I understand that if you're hungry, you're hungry. Given enough time, you will take food if necessary, irregardless of the moral dilemma.
But I'm not talking about these people. I'm talking about the fuck that just doesn't bother to pack one for themselves. Does it every day as some kind of indirect 'payback' to the company. Does it because they feel 'entitled' to it.
That's the human locust I want.
Once alerted to this scum, Predator Press policy is clear: I'm to buy 99-cent hamburgers, burritos or tacos, and leave them in the refrigerator with well-concealed used condoms buried deeply in the center. Not obvious and on the edges or on top -our Charter is very explicit: "buried deeply in the center".
The nefarious 'activity' tends to stop rather abruptly.
[LOBO]
Due to the graphic nature of this post, I'm going to try and bury it; way under the "current", and well beneath the feeds.This is solely for the people web-browsing that actually need this advice.
It is regarding office theft. In particular, the theft of people's lunches. I regard this as one of the lowest crimes you can commit against hard-working, honest people.
Now I understand that if you're hungry, you're hungry. Given enough time, you will take food if necessary, irregardless of the moral dilemma.
But I'm not talking about these people. I'm talking about the fuck that just doesn't bother to pack one for themselves. Does it every day as some kind of indirect 'payback' to the company. Does it because they feel 'entitled' to it.
That's the human locust I want.
Once alerted to this scum, Predator Press policy is clear: I'm to buy 99-cent hamburgers, burritos or tacos, and leave them in the refrigerator with well-concealed used condoms buried deeply in the center. Not obvious and on the edges or on top -our Charter is very explicit: "buried deeply in the center".
The nefarious 'activity' tends to stop rather abruptly.
Friday
Alchemy
Predator Press
[Mr. I]
For once, I'm with LOBO.
I'm answering the door clutching a $4,000 fake hooker head made by LucasArts, and a cocaine covered mirror.
[Mr. I]
For once, I'm with LOBO.
I'm answering the door clutching a $4,000 fake hooker head made by LucasArts, and a cocaine covered mirror.
Blasphemy
Predator Press
[LOBO]
I know this sounds crazy, but every year around this time my house gets visits from these teeny little ghosts, ghouls, devils, and Power Rangers, all demanding candy. And no sooner do give em candy and shut the door, and more of the little mooching pagan bastards show up.
Last year, even after I ran out of Tic-Tacs, this diminutive Godless hoard continued to swarm over my home relentlessly. I started giving them whatever I could find; cans of beets, maple syrup, beer, Tupperware lids, ketchup ... I even gave one a whole 5 lbs bag of sugar, in hopes diabetes might scale the vile dwarven hellspawn onslaught back a few notches.
And they kept coming.
On and on through the night, I am for whom the doorbell tolls: a cheery warning of yet another invasion by the insatiably greedy brood. My radio. My microwave. My television (that staggered the little bastard).
But this year, it'll be different.
I'm dressing as R Kelly.
[LOBO]
I know this sounds crazy, but every year around this time my house gets visits from these teeny little ghosts, ghouls, devils, and Power Rangers, all demanding candy. And no sooner do give em candy and shut the door, and more of the little mooching pagan bastards show up.
Last year, even after I ran out of Tic-Tacs, this diminutive Godless hoard continued to swarm over my home relentlessly. I started giving them whatever I could find; cans of beets, maple syrup, beer, Tupperware lids, ketchup ... I even gave one a whole 5 lbs bag of sugar, in hopes diabetes might scale the vile dwarven hellspawn onslaught back a few notches.
And they kept coming.
On and on through the night, I am for whom the doorbell tolls: a cheery warning of yet another invasion by the insatiably greedy brood. My radio. My microwave. My television (that staggered the little bastard).
But this year, it'll be different.
I'm dressing as R Kelly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
-
LOBO - Predator Press "I can't believe the woman giving the MRI was flirting with you right in front of me ," Wendy growled.... -
Predator Press [LOBO] Yes it's totally true. There is now, in fact, a $14.95 Bionic Ear . And I'm not even going to g...
