These are stone killers, little man. They ain’t cuddly like me. Military people don’t make out with science people. I’ve got four brothers, none of them Democrats. Stay away from hyena people, or any loser athletes, or if you see anyone who’s invisible. My egg is Jewish.
Yes, I’d forgotten you’re moonlighting as a criminal mastermind now. I brought you some supper but if you’d prefer a lecture, I’ve a few very catchy ones prepped: sin and hellfire, one has lepers. Passion rules us all. Well, I’m sure I’m in serious need of some moral spankitude, but guess who’s not qualified to be my Rabbi? Can everybody just notice how much fire I’m not on?
Yeah, it was sexy the way she touched me real hard with her fists. Scenario: We raise Buffy from the grave. She tries to eat our brains. See if you were really a witch, you’d do a spell to escape. Shh! No programs, don’t use that word. Just be Buffy. Magic’s all balderdash and chicanery. No, they’re something nightmares are from. Time for some thrilling heroics.
It was like the Heimlich, with stripes! My egg is Jewish. It’s about women. Okay, at this point you’re abusing sarcasm. Men, with your sales. I’m the one who brings about the thought-pocalypse.
I love what you are, what you do, how you try. Frankly, it’s ludicrous to have these interlocking bodies and not…interlock. Stay away from hyena people, or any loser athletes, or if you see anyone who’s invisible. First of all, Feng Shui up the yin yang, also I designed parts of it but I did not design the stone cold foxes in the small clothes and the ample massage facilities. Sarcastic? Unfeeling? British? Scenario: We raise Buffy from the grave. She tries to eat our brains. So, I’m wondering, do the other cookie animals feel sorta ripped? We need to save Buffy from Hansel and Gretel. These are stone killers, little man. They ain’t cuddly like me. We live in a space ship, dear.
So, I’m wondering, do the other cookie animals feel sorta ripped? Stay away from hyena people, or any loser athletes, or if you see anyone who’s invisible. My Uncle Rory was the stodgiest taxidermist you’ve ever met by day. Ain’t it crazy how slaying just always makes you hungry and horny?
We need to save Buffy from Hansel and Gretel. For this plan to work, River and I will have to be dead. You haven’t seen my drawer of inappropriate starches? I’m the one who brings about the thought-pocalypse. Who’s calling me? Everybody I know lives here. With any luck, he’ll poke the wrong one and end up in an alternative dimension inhabited by a fifty-foot Giles that squishes annoying teeny pirates. I’ll kill a man in a fair fight. Or if I think he’s gonna start a fair fight. Or if he bothers me. Or if there’s a woman. Or if I’m getting paid. Mostly when I’m getting paid.
You can’t spend the rest of your life waiting for Xander to wake up and smell the hottie. These endless days are finally ending in a blaze.
Don’t strain your brain trying, then. Might break something. Instead you go all Dumbledore on me. I’ll never leave. Not even if you kill me. I was actually at Woodstock. That was a weird gig. I fed off a flower person, and then I spent the next six hours watching my hand move. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. Boy, when they were handing out school spirit, you didn’t even stand in line, did you? You’re the one freaky thing in my freaky world that still makes sense to me.
Bunnies! Bunnies! It must be Bunnies! Turns out I suddenly find myself needing to know the plural of apocalypse. No, a bad day is when someone’s yellin’ spooks the cattle. Oh my god you will never believe what happened at school today. You could, uh, could have, like, a world without shrimp, or with, you know, nothing but shrimp. Seems odd you’d name your ship after a battle you were on the wrong side of. Yeah, well, I’m not the one who wanted Wind Beneath My Wings for the first dance.