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Willie-T:
he's yer average thirty-year-old fashion
senseless idiot who smells like fart constantly... i mean it. this guy has a
psychic aura which manifests itself olfactorily (ol_fart_orily?); he carries
around this nauseating cloud of -ugh- everywhere he goes, and he feels the need
to write a song based on whatever he is currently involved in. for example:
were pushin these carts around like mad, stacking these computer boards called
RPORTS. he starts singing "stackin rports, goin to the carports with mah
rports, stacking, stacking, S T A C I N G, stacking" (HE misspelled it folks,
not me... like i say, hes an idiot)
Assorted events: Whilst stacking RPORTS in the middle of the testing area I offer everyone that passes by a board. like so: holding up a clamshelled card, i say "would you like a piping hot RPORT today sir or madam?" (i would say "sir or madam" every time.) they would yuk it up dutifully, then shake their heads (everyone in the entire place would shake their heads simultaneously, as on wires) and "tut tut tut"
Theres this guy there who has the same name as i do, a somewhat uncommon name. everytime i see him, i say "hey, me, hows it goin?" or "whattaya say, me?" etc. funny, huh? no.
This this guy named truck and his friend eric were betting on the upcoming sonics/bulls game. i proposed a side bet: the devil will appear on earth during halftime, and he will take to hell those who are performing a healthy exercise at that time. they both believed me, forgot the bet, and ran home to prepare the corn oil and esoterica...
Your verbal needles pierce my conscience and i cannot withstand it anymore.