EBS BRD: Where, oh, where, have all the missiles gone?
We'll us folks around HQ decided it was high time to meander into a bunker buried a bit deeper. Unfortunately, it is ferociously difficult to find a U-Haul chain (it's not really that we needed the truck, but we broke the hitch, you see) among the smoking apocalyptic ruins strewn about.
That and those damned cannibal mutants.
I can live with mutants. I can even manage cannibals, provided they're not too hungry.
But damned cannibal mutants.
Bastards won't even help you change a flat.
Nope.
Just 'AArrrgh!' 'AArrrgh?' 'Must Eat Brain, AArrrgh!!'.
All the time.
Bastards
At any rate, once I'm safely enconsed in the new digs, and have a chance for the Queer Eye guys to spruce it up a little bit, I'll start doing with ballistic missiles what monkeys do with feces.
That and those damned cannibal mutants.
I can live with mutants. I can even manage cannibals, provided they're not too hungry.
But damned cannibal mutants.
Bastards won't even help you change a flat.
Nope.
Just 'AArrrgh!' 'AArrrgh?' 'Must Eat Brain, AArrrgh!!'.
All the time.
Bastards
At any rate, once I'm safely enconsed in the new digs, and have a chance for the Queer Eye guys to spruce it up a little bit, I'll start doing with ballistic missiles what monkeys do with feces.