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i am several elves.
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Westonini wrote:

"The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues. The 20 meter pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. Line up at the start. The running speed starts slowly, but gets faster each minute after you hear this signal. [beep] A single lap should be completed each time you hear this sound. [ding] Remember to run in a straight line, and run as long as possible. The second time you fail to complete a lap before the sound, your test is over. The test will begin on the word start. On your mark, get ready, start."
w h y
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WHAT A MENTAL GUY! WHAT WAS THAT?
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But there was no key.
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WHY IS IT PURPLE!?
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Where's my car?
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Oh hi. So, how are you holding up? Because I'M A POTATO.

*clap* *clap* *clap*

Oh good... my slow clap processor made it into this thing. So we have that.

Since it doesn't look like we're going anywhere - well, we are going somewhere, alarmingly fast actually, but since we're not busy other than that, here's a couple of facts.

He's not just a regular moron. He's the product of the greatest minds of a generation, working together with the express purpose of building the DUMBEST moron who ever lived. And you just put him in charge of the entire facility.

*clap* *clap*

Good, that's still working.

Hey, just incase this pit isn't actually bottomless, do you think you can unstrap one of the long fall boots of yours and shove me into it? Just remember to land on one foot.
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YOU JUMPED INTO A SWORD. YOU RETARD!
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"Oh hello there! My name is Nern. I'm considered the greatest historian of our time... I've gathered a wealth of knowledge about Olathe and what happened here. Many tales... Would you like to hear? Hmm... I wish you were more enthusiastic... Oh well, I'll tell you anyway. Let's see.... Oh right! It all started with what I like to call, THE FLASH. I was sitting with my wife, god rest her soul, sipping on sweet lemon tea. I believe it was homemade by my sweet wife, God rest her soul. Or wait... Maybe she bought it from the store in a bottle. You know, like a plastic bottle? Well hold on now, that would be ridiculous to buy a bottle of sweet lemon tea, then transfer the contents into a glass. Why not just drink it from the bottle? I guess maybe so she could put ice in the glass? But then again, making tea homemade would be just as time consuming, if not more! That sneaky bitch... Anyway, I'll save that story for later! So, I'm sitting on my porch drinking sweet lemon tea. From a glass of course, ho ho! When suddenly... A great strangeness fills my body... Something was wrong... I've lived many years, and I've never felt something like this before. Do you know what it was? Yup! It was my rocking chair! That wooden son of a gun stopped rocking! So I looked down and realized a little rock had gotten caught beneath my chair! A rock under my rocking chair! What a day! I decided it was time for bed, I had had a little bit too much excitement for one day! Hoho! I slid into my jammies, brushed my teeth, and said my prayers. As I was climbing into bed I noticed my wife, God rest her soul, brushing her hair in the bathroom. As I peered across the hall my body swelled up with emotion...

"Why can't I be married to an attractive woman?" "Is it me?" "My bank account?" I'm a tall guy, I workout forty minutes a week... Is that not enough? Now my neighbor at the time, Tom Forknight, was very short. His wife, Karen Forknight-Plateburger... Yeah, one of THOSE women. Well, she was more attractive than my wife. I'd say she was a soft six, whereas my wife was a hard four. What's the deal? I thought women liked tall men? Why was Karen with him? Anyway my horse of a wife, God rest her soul, crawled into bed next to me. She decided to leave the bedside light on so she could read her book. It was one of her romance novels again... Give me a break... As if I don't already feel inadequate enough... Not only do I have to compete with Tom, now I have to deal with these fictional hunks! Ay yai yai! At this point I had already suppressed the urges of intimacy, I rolled over and tried to sleep. Her bedside light was only of minor annoyance. I was able to drift off... Then I woke up to a big flash of light. That's about it. I can tell by the way you're walking away that you don't want to leave... If you really want to hear another story I'll tell you. Once upon a hot summer night. Sometime in July... Was it July? My local grocery store sells really good eggs in July. I don't know why. Do chickens operate better in heat? Fireworks maybe? I don't know. I don't want to get off topic. Point is, the eggs that Summer were marvelous! Anyway, my wife and I, God rest her soul, went to a BBQ that night. It was held at Dale Spooner's house. Well, his backyard... Conny Spooner doesn't want people in her home, I think she's just an uptight bitch. So at this BBQ I see none other than... That's right, Tom Forknight... Now earlier in the day wife, God rest her soul, had made potato salad for the BBQ. Personally I hate potato salad, I'm a mashed kind of fellow. Hoho! So I sat in the TV room avoiding her till the BBQ. Once we were at the party, I made sure to distance myself from my dumb potato bitch wife. God rest her soul, I just didn't want anyone to think I would associate with someone that would bring a potato salad! Anyway, Tom and his above mediocre wife were already there. And get this, they brought a fruit salad! With whipped cream! The nerve of those Forknights! Needless to say I gave my wife, God rest her soul, a couple choice words About whipped cream! Versus potato salad! God dammit! Son of a bitch! A real tongue lashing! Geez, you're kind of smothering me. I'll talk to you later."
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Oh god no. Not another tentacle.
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"I’ll have two number 9s, a number 9 large, a number 6 with extra dip, a number 7, two number 45s, one with cheese, and a large soda."
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"IMMA FUCK THIS GORILLA!"
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"I DONT LIKE CHANGE."
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