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The vile freeper coworker of mine got drunk and took the podium last night, spewing out vile insults about "femnazis" and "the poor are poor because they are lazy," the usual stuff. After 5 minutes of this, I had enough. I told him off and tried to get him to calm down, but he threw his drink at me and called me a "commie bastard." "That's it!" I screamed. "I am going to settle this once and for all, you Christo-fascist supporter!" Then I grabbed his necktie with my left hand and throat punched him with the right. He retaliated with a series of uppercuts, but I relented and power-bombed him through a table. Thinking quickly, I grabbed the microphone cable and wrapped it around his throat. He wheezed and sprayed blood from his nose as he gasped for air. With one foot on his heaving chest, I grabbed them mic and said "Tell everybody you're Bill Clinton's pool boy. SAY IT!!!" With the little breath he had left, he muttered, silently, "i...am..bill...clinton's..pool boy." "Good," I said, freeing him from certain doom. "Now go, and never come back to this place."
But not really.
Happy Holidays, everyone! :hi:
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