I guess this is what it sounds like…when doves fart. *farts slowly and deliberately while maintaining eye contact with mister pants*

Badger of Honor

Maybe the zombies have just been metaphors for that part of us that cannot die—the core of ourselves that gets passed on through memory and influence—and which eats brains.

Ok, then I'll continue to visualize you as a humpbacked and happily goitered dwarf who pays children shiny gold coins for the privilege of smelling their bicycle seats.

I…um…what?

Where Eyebrows Dare. On a unrelated note, I like your username.

Oh mister pants, often I wonder who and what the fuck you are.

So was Jesus. *crosses arms, evidently pleased with himself*

(*counts first to five, then to ten on his fingers; pauses several minutes to reflect*) Goddamn, he's right!

Judging by the use of the word "jeez", I'd guess Minnesota.

How I Met Your Mothers

He's so old, he broke his ankle when he tripped on his own balls!

We all pray that he'll be entertaining us with his snappy antics soon!

Punnery always indicas a hopeless masturbator.

Should they go on without him?

I think I just came a little in my mister pants.

Wouldn't shoving them downtown ruin the pictures?

Ball-Flavored Marmalade?

You made a joke without first checking to ensure that no one else made it? Prepare to be slapped…with the dong of justice!

Look fellows, the first nerd of the season!