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69 is so funny. Whenever I hear it, I just burst out laughing. I run out into the living room and grab the Tv remote. I start flicking through the channels. “You guys, it’s so funny, you’ll laugh so hard!” I can barely get it out as I’m laughing so hard, banging the table and snickering while I flick through the TV channels. I finally get to The CW, and the number 69 is on the bottom right-hand corner of the screen! My family and friends who were over all stand up in tremendous applause, and my wife and children come back from upstate to be with my comedic genius!
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What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo.
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Jon: Stuffing your face as usual… Garfielf: I gotta have a good meal. Jon: Garfield, you fat cat! You are so big and fat! Why are you so fat?! Garfielf: I eat, Jon. It’s what I do. It’s time to kick Odie off the table. (he looks at Odie with a malicious intent) Jon: Don’t do it, Garfielf! That’s our pet dog Odie! Garfielf: You’re going into orbit, you stupid mutt! (Odie is kicked into “orbit”) Jon: GAAAAAAARFIIIELD!!! Garfielf: Time for a nap. I’m a cat who loves to snooze. Jon: GARFIELD, YOU LAZY CAT! (his voice echoes across the room) Garfielf: I hate alram clocks. (he smashes an “alram clock” next to his bed with his fist) I’m am hungry, I want some lasaga. (a thought bubble with lasaga inside hovers next to him) Jon: You’re eating us out of house and home, Garmfield! Garfielf: Enough with the Chit Chat, lets get some grub going! (grub time…) Jon: Where are the three-cheese pizzas? Garfielf: I ate those food. Jon: Where are the taco shells? Garfielf: I ate those food. Jon: Where did all the Hamburger Helper go? (Garfielf lets out a big burp) Jon: You’re such a bad kitty! that’s it! I’ve had it with you! that does it! I’m done! that’s the last straw, Grarfileld!
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