You see, I'm actually the physical representation of Death and I'm looking to recruit three people to join me in the formation of the barbershop quartet.
Again? Cthulhu? He does this every goddamn year and I say the same thing to every lacky he sends. I ain't doing it. I won't fucking do it. Fucking no. Fuck off. Get the fuck out of here.
I'll buy you lunch, you fat piece of shit.
I... What? No! I can't be bought like that.
And a cookies and cream milkshake, lardbeard.
Milk AND cookies WITH cream? I'll be Conquest all night long for that baby!
