Rat Dog: No matter what they say Mudcracker, you are Not my fuckin' bitch. Now... faster up that god-damn hill!
Mudcracker: Oh Snookum, I need to remind you that you have a pedicure with Lek on Tuesday, 9am.
Rat Dog: Jeez, get a move on, you run like a Swede. If we were being chased by bar girls, you'd get caught by a lady boy.
Sperm Polluter: So when exactly did you first feel “The Urge”?
Panzer Fister: Oh, about a year ago. I was wrapping some boxes with masking tape and wow, I just can't describe it.
Sperm Polluter: Yea, I know the feeling. I get that same tingling when the Golden Cock is around my neck, that dangling glow.
Panzer Fister: I don't know if it's the sound of the tape being all rustled up in chest hairs, or if it's the under the legs move, that twisting around blubbery fat with rubber based adhesive,... just so divine.
Beetroot Head: Naw, you guys go on up, I'll wait for you here.
Boring Wanker: You said that at the last bloody hill.
Beetroot Head: Well, I'm not called Beetroot Head for nothing you know.
Shit On My Chest: Oh, how did you get that name anyway?
Beetroot Head: It might have something to do with the coat hangar marks on my skull.
Rat Dog: Hey Mudcracker, when we get to the C site can I sit on your lap and play the wiggle wiggle game?
Mudcracker: Surely honeypie, I even brought our special blanky, the one with the fur and tinsel.
Rat Dog: And don't forget to bring my fuckin' bells this time......biatch.
Mudcracker: Of course Pookie.
On On
The Ghost Rider
On On
The Ghost Rider
