LIKE A HURRICANE OF RABID HYENAS EATING YOUR FACE COMBINED WITH ICE DAGGERS MOUNTED ON THE FORELOCKS OF BARE-CHESTED CENTAURS CHARGING DOWNHILL AIMED SQUARELY FOR YOUR PRE-FRONTAL LOBE, THE SWORD WILL IMMOLATE YOUR COWARDLY HEART AND LEAVE NOTHING BUT A TRAIL OF SLIME WHERE IT ONCE BEAT LIKE A MEEK FIELDMOUSE WEARING A FLOWERED PETTICOAT.
YOU ARE NOT READY FOR THIS. BOW DOWN.
p.s. dear 'the sword,' please tell me you aren't bringing that d-bag poser asshole who was manning your merch table the last time you came to san diego. there is a distinct possibility that i may kick him in the throat and shove his smug face right up his own ass. thanks! see you at the show.
Added by username on February 14, 2008