Sunday, April 6, 2014

Thank god that isn’t my arm because it would be violently...





Thank god that isn’t my arm because it would be violently severed at the elbow and set alight while I run screaming from the room, tossing a lit Molotov cocktail over my shoulder on the way out, slamming the door closed, barricading it, setting the building on fire, and then driving a tanker truck filled with jet fuel and liquid oxygen into the flaming structure. I would then run screaming, one armed, out into the dark, tears streaming down my face as I am vaporized by a military laser firing from deep space. The only casualty of the once highly touted Cold War Star Wars program.




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