RE: EIGHTEEN WHEELERS OF FORTUNE: LET'S PLAY BMFCT
07-23-2015, 04:25 AM
END FLASHBACK, BEGIN MOTHERFUCKIN' FLASHNOW
Dusk descends on Interstate 5 with the frustrated fuckin' roar of a dying predator. Five motherfuckin' crabs and a passably-disguised motherfuckin' lobster are collectively cajoling their rig (single) down the fuckin' highway, yelling to coordinate over its clanking and screeching.
Sweetcakes (bless 'em and blessed be the motherfuckin' Crab Goddess) yells to Outer Bones McJones, at the steering-helm, to take the next exit, near which lies a fridgin' depot where they might acquire themselves a better gosh-darnin' set of wheels.
In the back, Lobster Crab is trying their fuckin' hardest to do inventory, which is pretty fuckin' hard because Scab the Crab Bard is doing encouraging fuckin' guitar riffs in his ear. Also, your cargo is several metric fucktons of ice cream, and Piston Shrimp is fuckin' being kept on his point-footers between engaging emergency motherfuckin' repairs on the truck, and fixing the fuckin' refridgeration unit (which is on the fuckin' fritz).
It's a fuckin' shitshow. Snipsnaps "Gatling" Johnson, standing guard on the cab roof, nearly hits the fuckin' tarmac as Bones McJones takes the off-ramp too fuckin' sharply.
The Depot welcomes you in like the huge, grimy, disreputable child you are, various crevices sticky with melted ice cream. Due to a miscommunication through the radio, they've prepared up (8) motherfuckin' vehicles, in various incarnations of "truckiness".
It's expected that you take these fuckin' things off the depot's carapaced hands, because they were personally booned on down by the motherfuckin' Crab Goddess and there's really no sending them back.
---
Describe your 8 blessed road-ppendages so the Crab Goddess may know you have received them, then tell me how you're going to get these fuckin' things out of the yard, along with your precious cargo of ice cream. If anything about your descriptions seems out of line, I'll tell you
No fuckin' way and we can roll for it.
Dusk descends on Interstate 5 with the frustrated fuckin' roar of a dying predator. Five motherfuckin' crabs and a passably-disguised motherfuckin' lobster are collectively cajoling their rig (single) down the fuckin' highway, yelling to coordinate over its clanking and screeching.
Sweetcakes (bless 'em and blessed be the motherfuckin' Crab Goddess) yells to Outer Bones McJones, at the steering-helm, to take the next exit, near which lies a fridgin' depot where they might acquire themselves a better gosh-darnin' set of wheels.
In the back, Lobster Crab is trying their fuckin' hardest to do inventory, which is pretty fuckin' hard because Scab the Crab Bard is doing encouraging fuckin' guitar riffs in his ear. Also, your cargo is several metric fucktons of ice cream, and Piston Shrimp is fuckin' being kept on his point-footers between engaging emergency motherfuckin' repairs on the truck, and fixing the fuckin' refridgeration unit (which is on the fuckin' fritz).
It's a fuckin' shitshow. Snipsnaps "Gatling" Johnson, standing guard on the cab roof, nearly hits the fuckin' tarmac as Bones McJones takes the off-ramp too fuckin' sharply.
The Depot welcomes you in like the huge, grimy, disreputable child you are, various crevices sticky with melted ice cream. Due to a miscommunication through the radio, they've prepared up (8) motherfuckin' vehicles, in various incarnations of "truckiness".
It's expected that you take these fuckin' things off the depot's carapaced hands, because they were personally booned on down by the motherfuckin' Crab Goddess and there's really no sending them back.
---
Describe your 8 blessed road-ppendages so the Crab Goddess may know you have received them, then tell me how you're going to get these fuckin' things out of the yard, along with your precious cargo of ice cream. If anything about your descriptions seems out of line, I'll tell you
No fuckin' way and we can roll for it.
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow