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John Samuels · **03-07-2014, 12:40 PM**

"You know, ya'd think that after crossing paths with a queer alien and a midget hornier than Unknown Soldier on a trip through a graveyard, that there would be nothing left to surprise me. And then a talking collection of belly button lint named Griffin comes along all ornery like and starts bad mouthing his own teammates and my jaw dropped faster than NAZI's trousers do when John Madison comes up from behind."

"What's wrong there, little linty fella? Why are ya so angry? Are you feeling a little out of place? Would you like me to call Sid for ya and have him bring you home?"

"Hey Sid! I found your lint! I think he's homesick. Why don't you take him on home and put him on that shelf next to the jar that you keep your toenail clippings in?"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. But damn, Griffin, take it easy on the guy would ya? He's a pig on legs, you know what fat people do when they get sad? They eat. And with World War X comin' up and everything, I can't imagine you guys want this tubby bastard rolling, literally, in all gorged on pecan sandies and ho-ho's. For Pete's sakes, even if you don't care about the match you still gotta share a toilet with him."

"Seriously though guys."

"As much as I LOVE watching all of Eli James' little ass pimples compete with eachother to see who gets to grow closest to the hole, I'd like it very much if you saved a piece for the rest of us."

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