RE: EIGHTEEN WHEELERS OF FORTUNE: LET'S PLAY BMFCT
07-27-2015, 01:13 AM
With your motherfuckin' fleet assembled, you now appear properly fuckin' equipped to haul your precious, caramel-and-raspberry-ripple-delight cargo down the motherfuckin' coastline.
If you can get it out of the old rig before it fuckin' melts, that is! This motherfuckin' confectionary was mined from the darker-than-darkest-chocolate Dairy Mines of Deepest Yukon. The legends tell of great chasms where prehistoric megafauna have hibernated since crabkind first walked the earth, undisturbed until discovered by an industry in its death-throes. The frozen diary moguls injected the aurochs with over 20 different flavours, producing the delectable selection quietly puddling before you today.
It's fuckin' delicious, and also quite lucrative motherfuckin' haulage! Getting it into the country is no mean feat, the armored trucks of your northern cousins, the yeti crabs, putting even Snipsnaps' motherfuckin' GUNNERTRUCKER to shame.
But you don't fuckin' care about any of that! All you know is by divine decree, this fuckin' cargo needs to be in Sacrabmento, California, by tomorrow lunchtime!
You've already lost about 5% of your ice cream to motherfuckin' global warming, and it looks like you've gotten some noise control on your tail to boot! Several sets of headlights wave their beams about as their attached vehicles come screaming around the corners of the local roads.
Fight! Load! Haul! Crabs!
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You have one (1) Metric Fuckton of rapidly-melting ice cream, to haul by noon tomorrow (~18 hours) to Sacrabmento, California.
Who's getting lumped with repacking duty?
Where on the continent are you right now?
What the fuck are you all generally doing?
If you can get it out of the old rig before it fuckin' melts, that is! This motherfuckin' confectionary was mined from the darker-than-darkest-chocolate Dairy Mines of Deepest Yukon. The legends tell of great chasms where prehistoric megafauna have hibernated since crabkind first walked the earth, undisturbed until discovered by an industry in its death-throes. The frozen diary moguls injected the aurochs with over 20 different flavours, producing the delectable selection quietly puddling before you today.
It's fuckin' delicious, and also quite lucrative motherfuckin' haulage! Getting it into the country is no mean feat, the armored trucks of your northern cousins, the yeti crabs, putting even Snipsnaps' motherfuckin' GUNNERTRUCKER to shame.
But you don't fuckin' care about any of that! All you know is by divine decree, this fuckin' cargo needs to be in Sacrabmento, California, by tomorrow lunchtime!
You've already lost about 5% of your ice cream to motherfuckin' global warming, and it looks like you've gotten some noise control on your tail to boot! Several sets of headlights wave their beams about as their attached vehicles come screaming around the corners of the local roads.
Fight! Load! Haul! Crabs!
---
You have one (1) Metric Fuckton of rapidly-melting ice cream, to haul by noon tomorrow (~18 hours) to Sacrabmento, California.
Who's getting lumped with repacking duty?
Where on the continent are you right now?
What the fuck are you all generally doing?
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