...and we'll call it "Acts of Aggression!" We can sell it for millions, just like those damn French did with their... unghh... bottled water and such! It doesn't take three Blue's Clues to figure that one out--
--Neehhh! That's right worth a dozen spankings, I'll tell ye! Wot's wot is a gi-normous rocket falling from the sky and crushing all of Europe, that's it!!
But what happens to us?
We'll be the new world's rulers! You get the western half and I get the eastern half and we'll both divide up the slaves. Bet there's an even billion in China alone. I'd have them build me another wall if the Mongols will bloody keep to themselves this time around.
And a flying banana in your wonker if this doesn't work. Raped by a swan you'll be when the third world nations rise up and rebel.
That's the glory of it! Too many people these days are into that "religion" fad, we can pull this off easily. Just pose as a God and such, and they'll be too busy hurling missiles at each other in your name to realize what the hell's going on. Next thing you know there's a hundred man slaves at your feet begging for you to spend a split second in the bedchamber with them and an entire hemisphere at your command.
Sounds promising... when can we start? How? Wot's wot and wot's wot? Why dun we just say "what?" These pseudo-British accents are killing me!
Because if you keep that negative attitude, you'll end up on Skid Row with your pantaloons on fire and a rough trick named Jim feeding you chili peppers through the hole he made in your throat with his bare fists.
Pleasant. I'll be off to the local 7-11 right now to claim him. Sounds like one of Timmy's friends, is he not?
I'se known you for years, and we never knew anyone named Timmy. There was a Tommy, but he died.
Died?!
Yes, he's dead. He's dead, and Jim's next.
He's dead---Jim?!!
Positive, ghost rider. He was inflicted with rigor mortis.
But he was still alive! He couldn't get that!
Ohhhh yes he could. Struck him in the groin right well. Didn't go away until he was well dead. Took five huge men and some tweezers to get his coffin shut, right-o.
Groin? Tweezers? Rigor mortis? I need a holiday from your chatter. Maybe I'll take next Penguin's Day off to go to the Williamshire.
I dun think so, Missy Mary JuAnna. We're siamese twins at the eyelids! I seeeeeee yooouuuu...
Bah! You'll not be ruining it for me this time! I loathe you, you fat plebian!
Fat plebian? Taken a look-see at yourself lately?
--How could I?! I can see nothing but yourself--
--Do you fancy a taco?
A taco?
I thought we could go grab one at the deli. They're on sale because they've expired years ago.
Alright, sounds good to me.