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A BUTT KICKIN' DAY TO YOU ALL!
(Especially you, Cupcake!) Here's Santa Destroy University's star quarterback, mecha pilot, and resident ladies' man! Yeah, it's a crazy life, but I'm Charlie MacD! I'm too busy being awesome to worry about s**t! Assassin battles? No problem! I can just call out my ******** gigantic robot, Santa Death Parade! (Did I mention that I also work for a robotics company? Yep, life is sweet with your very own giant robot!) Of course, there are always the people who are all like, "Charlie, you're too young and awesome to die!" or "Charlie, you should really be focusing on your totally boring and grody classes, not on getting yourself killed in a totally righteous giant robot battle!" Seriously, I always wonder why they say that. I'm the one and only Charlie MacD! I'm not destined to die...
HOLY s**t, I almost forgot!
GO DEATH PARADE!!!
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@Candy: HOLY s**t!1!
@Cloe: HOLY s**t x2
Because if you are, I might consider taking Rank 25 soon.
As in, I will slowly and systematically find a way to make you suffer. YOU WILL SUFFER. I will drug your sports drink next time you have a game, and then I'll drag your unconscious body out of the locker room. I will then strip you down and auction your blood-stained clothing on the Net. After you wake up, you'll probably try to escape into the forest, which is a cue for me to come hunt you down with a tranquilizer gun and a syringe of morphine. Not too much, because I wouldn't want to kill you instantly. It'll be hard to drag your overgrown body back into the cabin, but I'll manage. A gunshot will wake you up the second time. I'll then proceed to tell you that I had convinced your parents to kill themselves for your freedom. Of course, I still won't let you go. Like all good, stereotypical, Hollywood serial killers, I'll have some fun with you before I finally decide to pick you off the face of the Earth. It's probably be a few long, dragging torture sessions, possibly followed by a little montage exploiting any psychological problems that you had just happened to have shown me during the five months I've been stalking you. After you're a completely incoherent mess, I will probably do something that disgusts/offends the audience, such as anything relating to: 1) cannibalism, 2) sexual depravity, or 3) forcing you to harm yourself. Seriously, it'll be almost like pr0n. (What is with horror movies these days?) Like all horrible, B-rate horror movies, you won't survive it, and the audience will leave the theater completely disappointed. I'm just sayin'.
I have to get that box back.
If I don't, the company is going to slit my throat. Or worse, I'll get fired.
BTW, haff fun inserting needles into your a**. Don't ask me for help vith it.
Und another sing, I pawned zat mysterious box in your closet. I hope you don't mind.
HEY GUYS, I'M NOT DEAD. D:
I'm not 'roiding. My doctor tells me I just have an overactive pituitary gland.
That ******** finally succumbed to the raging steroid abuse.
It's now safe to bring out our small children. Charlie's not touching anyone down soon.