Its legs were stuck in the wheel of the truck and torn off.
No, you know what? Fuck it. You're right. I ate ten sheets of blotter, stuffed some money in my ears, yelled "GLUBBA GLUBBA GLU!" and made up a story about my dog being ran over by a pickup truck.
I'm going to go bow my head in shame.
Would you like me to get you a bear statue, MistaMista?
"Somebody told me when the bomb hits, everybody in a two mile radius will be instantly sublimated, but if you lay face down on the ground for some time, avoiding the residual ripples of heat, you might survive, permanently fucked up and twisted like you're always underwater refracted. But if you do go gas, there's nothing you can do if the air that was once you is mingled and mashed with the kicked up molecules of the enemy's former body. Big-kid-tested, motherf--ker approved."
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