quote:

Dear Lord,

Since this dick muncher little punk called me out in this thread, please let this happen. Puh lease.

I've been pretty good my whole life. I served my country. Worked hard to provide for my family. I've given a lot to my community. I know I drink too much and I cheated on my wives some, did some drugs, lied a few times, probably did some other naughty things you're still pissed at me about like fapping to the Sears catalog and then fapping to Penthouse and those sweet assed letters to Xaviera Hollander and then along came that crazy kinky bitch first wife of mine and then I found Internet porn and all .... but I couldn't help myself as you know .... I mean, you made me this way sorta. I've never prayed for myself - even when I was really sick or hurt except a couple of times right before they told me I might not make it through surgery. You always pulled me through, seriously ... thank you for that.

::::: long pause to go get another beer ::::::

Thank you for your patience Lord. And for your sense of humor - I wish more people understood your sense of humor btw.

So anyways ... please let me one day get my hands on this punk arse mother fricker before I get too old to put the hammer to his arse. I'll even take a picture of my 62 year old hammer and show it to him beforehand, (pardon the pun Lord) so that he'll know it was not a fricking baseball bat that took his arse out and made him start shitting his pants and mumbling to himself .... it was just my right hand or, as the Peezos used to call it, "the right hand of God" and remember Lord ... I use to bust their blasphemous balls about that. Forgive them for that please. Marvin was way worse than me remember .... he used to take trophies and stuff. I never did that.

Anyways, once I drop his (sucks echoe's) punk arse fair and square after I grab his face and make him pucker up before I spit in his mouth like I used to do to shite talking punks ... please give me the strength, because I've not always been good to my body I know (my temple, I know) ... but please give me the strength to pick his limp punk arse body up and slam it on something hard like I used to do in the old days - preferably a rock or a curb or the bumper of the nearest car or whatever. I promise not to completely curb stomp him like I used to do where they would have brain damage or cry for their mommas ... but I will probably disfigure his punk arse by carving my initials backwards in his forehead like I used to do .... you remember. And I asked you forgiveness for those times again BTW. Thank you for that btw.

Also Lord, with regard to my friends, of which you are one of the Peezos, of course ... please find whatever they do to this prick's limp dick body afterwards non-complicit. You know how they get into stomping fricktard arse like I do ... and this dickweed has it coming. But they are getting old too so if they happen to be around please spare them from pulled hamstrings, knee problems, ankle problems, etc.

So Lord, if you are listening, and I know you probably are because I think this may actually be the first time I've put a prayer in writing since Catechism or Confirmation back in the 50s and 60s, (thank you in advance btw), would you, in the event of an actual SHTF scenario befalling our once great country (and I pray it never happens), ... would you please direct this dick lapper that started this thread to my compound so that I can relieve some stress the old fashioned way? I mean, good gosh Lord ... you know me. I've always had a problem with the whole "turn the other cheek" thing when it comes to fricktards. Does this guy not qualify as a fricktard or what? I apologize for that but hey ... you made St Michael the patron saint of we paratroops and dammit ... St Michael would do much worse to this arse wipe than I'm gonna do. I mean if he comes to my house I'm just going to cripple him and disfigure him and those sort of things .... and maybe feed him to the dogs if he doesn't repent properly - if they can stand the taste of this fricking douche bag. I guess if they are hungry enough they will ... but anyways.

Respectfully yours Lord. I'll keep throwing sandbags on the back forty hoping to keep my strength up with the possibility of one day spiking this shitbag mutherfricker on a fence post until you make up your mind ... and oh, in the meantime, here is the pic of the 62 year old hammer I am going to crush this cocksucker with, as you know. Remember how I busted that middle knuckle on that dickweed in North Charleston? Or how I busted that index knuckle into two pieces on that fricktard in Rome ... or was it Civitavecchia? I've still got three good knuckles remaining ... although I seriously doubt this punk's facial bones or skull will be enough to bust another knuckle at my age ... but wouldn't you like to give me a chance to try?

Thank you for your time Lord.

As always, Your old soldier ...

scrooster

Here's the scrooster hammer for you, you punk mumbling-arse sucks of echoes, because that's all you'll ever be able to do again in your life if you keep talking shite muther fricker. One day, in some Sonic somewhere, you'll order a milkshake from some pretty little girl on roller skates and next thing you know it'll be delivered by the mother fricking scrooster hammer and the last thing you'll remember will be the flashing lights and the people laughing at you as you piss and shite your pants while waiting on the fricking ambulance to arrive ... fricktard.