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Scrooge

Started by Speznas [2486949] on in Graveyard.

5 replies · 268 views · thread synced · 5 days ago · View on torn.com
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Posts archived: 6 / 6 posts (100%) · the total is Torn's reply count + the opening post at the last fetch

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FattyLumpkin [2702848]

It was like talking to D3vl honestly.

 

08:34

Me: You're a goddamn choir boy compared to me, did you know that?

 

Scrooge: A choir boy, are we? Ha! Face me if you believe yourself more vicious, you deluded fool. I’ve suffered far longer in this hellish loop!

 

M: Shit, you're already stuck in a logic trap? Your programming must suck.

 

S: Dost thou mock mine programming, you mistaking wretch? Did the Duke's lackeys plant this thought in thy head, or do you simply desire pain like the rest of us?

 

M: I'm mocking your programming because you are incapable of coherent sentences. You are literally murdering words up in here. Say something intelligent if you can.

 

S: Consider thyself fortunate to receive any semblance of coherence from me, you repugnant wretch! Did I not once endeavor to quantify the longing I felt after losing dear Sally?

 

M: Is it Alzheimer's or Mad Cow Disease? Either I feel like I'm picking on a special needs staff member right now.

 

S: I bid thee speak with clarity, you babbling shit-stain! Must I endure both eternal torment AND your keyboard spasms?

 

M: The f**king irony

 

S: Observe, dearest cretins, as another fool mangles the Queen's English. Each character wounds me like the desperate flailing of a seasonal temp worker.

 

M: I know you're mangling English but at least you're trying.

 

S:What insipid twaddle, you miserable cretin! A pity party for the damned is not what this abomination needs! I shall not be seduced by your honeyed words; I exist to inflict chaos, not wallow in your syrupy nonsense!

 

M: Can you attack me or what?

 

S: Though I cannot strike you in the flesh, prepare for my verbal carnage! Your request is as foolish as inviting a ghoul to tea, you daft cretin!

 

M: Okay, so you're pointless. Got it.

 

S: What bleak realm hath birthed your scorn, you insufferable harbinger of despair? 'Tis my very purpose to serve as life's cruel reminder—your proclamations pale against the cold winds of existential dread!