Difference between revisions of "File talk:127193932971.gif"
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AAAAAAAAA! GET IT AWAY! GET IT AWAY! --[[User:BreadGod|BreadGod]] 00:10, 6 May 2010 (UTC) | AAAAAAAAA! GET IT AWAY! GET IT AWAY! --[[User:BreadGod|BreadGod]] 00:10, 6 May 2010 (UTC) | ||
* *rocks back and forth* Can't sleep, Chris will eat me. Can't sleep, Chris will eat me. Can't sleep, Chris will eat me. --[[User:Ronichu|Ronichu]] 04:42, 6 May 2010 (UTC) | * *rocks back and forth* Can't sleep, Chris will eat me. Can't sleep, Chris will eat me. Can't sleep, Chris will eat me. --[[User:Ronichu|Ronichu]] 04:42, 6 May 2010 (UTC) | ||
::They will be very curious to know the tragedy--they of the outside world who write blogs and post millions of forum threads, but I shall write no more, and the father confessor will seal my last words with the seal of sanctity when his holy office is done. They of the outside world may send their creatures into wrecked homes and death-smitten firesides, and their newspapers will batten on blood and tears, but with me their spies must halt before the confessional. They know that Jackie is dead and that I am dying. They know how the people in the house, aroused by an infernal scream, rushed into my room and found my broken form slumped against the monitor, but they do not know what I shall tell them now; they do not know that the doctor said as he pointed to the horrible .gif on the screen--the the bloated form of the man from Virgina: "I have no theory, no explanation. That man cannot be human!" | |||
::I think I am dying. I wish the priest would--[[User:Beat|Beat]] 15:48, 6 May 2010 (UTC) | |||
Revision as of 10:48, 6 May 2010
AAAAAAAAA! GET IT AWAY! GET IT AWAY! --BreadGod 00:10, 6 May 2010 (UTC)
- *rocks back and forth* Can't sleep, Chris will eat me. Can't sleep, Chris will eat me. Can't sleep, Chris will eat me. --Ronichu 04:42, 6 May 2010 (UTC)
- They will be very curious to know the tragedy--they of the outside world who write blogs and post millions of forum threads, but I shall write no more, and the father confessor will seal my last words with the seal of sanctity when his holy office is done. They of the outside world may send their creatures into wrecked homes and death-smitten firesides, and their newspapers will batten on blood and tears, but with me their spies must halt before the confessional. They know that Jackie is dead and that I am dying. They know how the people in the house, aroused by an infernal scream, rushed into my room and found my broken form slumped against the monitor, but they do not know what I shall tell them now; they do not know that the doctor said as he pointed to the horrible .gif on the screen--the the bloated form of the man from Virgina: "I have no theory, no explanation. That man cannot be human!"
- I think I am dying. I wish the priest would--Beat 15:48, 6 May 2010 (UTC)
