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Time now for “Who would win?”

769 views 5 replies 6 participants last post by  samuri 
#1 · (Edited)
Who would win?

Zippy the Pinhead on a tricycle (I doubt he can hold his balance), after drinking a bottle of Whole Milk, with yesterday’s newspaper tucked under his arm, and freshly stepped-on bubble gum under his heel. He’s riding fast to get nowhere, fast…

Wilson Phillips (all three chicks) on a single speed tandem (the blonde one is in a Burly trailer wearing a discarded KFC bucket on her head, smothered in mayonnaise, and crying), going up hill at 10 mph because the fat one lost a lot of weight…

and

a cage full of Catholic gnomes in a rusty Radio Flyer wagon, going downhill after the handle slid off the greasy little Hard Breathing Fat Kid’s hand, who was taking them home for dinner, and was going to have his mom make some sautéed gnomes…

All this points to one intersection in San Francisco…who will get there first?

Will it be Zippy?
Will it be Wilson Phillips?
Will it be the a cage full of Catholic gnomes with the little Hard Breathing Fat Kid chasing them on foot?

Discuss…
 
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#5 ·
Tie between HBFK & Gnomes and Team Wilson Phillips, but TWP would be carrying some serious momentum, I don't care how much weight she's lost. Gnomes scattering like bowling pins. HBFK weeping. Radio Flyer a heap of twisted metal. Zippy would be taken out by the musket-wielding dog right out of the starting gates. TWP managed to fend off the dog though with the blonde laying suppression fire from the Burley which is plastered with pro-Bush "Blood for Oil!" bumperstickers. One guy's bet at least. S
 
#6 ·
It's quite patently the guy in the 'king of the mountains' jersey. He may be unquarrallertly handicapted by a newspaper and a belly full of cow whosit but by god, he can hold his custard (that's what's in the little jar by his pin-elbow).

I reckon he'll trundle it. The rock-chick band, tasty as they all may be, smeared in KFC fat, lean opposite directions (everyone knows that about girls) and well, I reckon dwarves, would be too busy kicking live p o o out of the dog disguised as lord of the manor to care about winning some stupid race where the only prize is a quick feel of Jethro Tull's a-string and a photograph of a small flower, taking part in a 1960's revival night (where sadly, flowers get eaten).
 
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