Part Eighty Five
"Shit! Run!" yelled Turf as he updated the
earlier plan from just running to shitting and running. "Come
on, Rocko. Tell 'em about our mission!"
"WE'RE ON A MISSION FROM THE BAD GOD!"
"That's right!" added Turf. Just then,
thunder rumbled throughout the cave and the fantasyers could smell
the faint smell of cigarettes and leather. The skeletons all started
to tremble and then suddenly turned to dust.
"Thank you, Bad God!" danced Rocko.
"I guess so," suspicioused Turf.
"The Bad God's a Bad Dude," preached Rocko.
Bones still filled the extremely long hallway.
"Nobody bone," cried Harry homophobically.
"We need condoms first," he added. So I guess it wasn't
homophobically at all; it was just germophobically.
"I don't have any money," cried Turf
"The old man's right," agreed Rocko about
the boning and the condoms.
86. Yellowlings Are Ninjas
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