I could've beem a Luftwaffe ace, you know.
What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo.
I could've beem a Luftwaffe ace, you know.
I don’t give a fuck who you are or where you live. You can count on me to be there to bring your fucking life to a hellish end. I’ll put you in so much fucking pain that it’ll make Jesus being nailed to a cross in the desert look like a fucking back massage on a tropical island. I don’t give a fuck how many reps you have or how tough you are IRL, how well you can fight, or how many fucking guns you own to protect yourself. I’ll fucking show up at your house when you aren’t home. I’ll turn all the lights on in your house, leave all the water running, open your fridge door and not close it, and turn your gas stove burners on and let them waste gas. You’re going to start stressing the fuck out, your blood pressure will triple, and you’ll have a fucking heart attack. You’ll go to the hospital for a heart operation, and the last thing you’ll see when you’re being put under in the operating room is me hovering above you, dressed like a doctor. When you wake up after being operated on, wondering what ticking time bomb is in your chest waiting to go off. You’ll recover fully from your heart surgery. And when you walk out the front door of the hospital to go home I’ll run you over with my fucking car out of no where and kill you. I just want you to know how easily I could fucking destroy your pathetic excuse of a life, but how I’d rather go to a great fuckng length to make sure your last remaining days are spent in a living, breathing fucking hell. It’s too late to save yourself, but don’t bother committing suicide either… I’ll fucking resuscitate you and kill you again myself you bitch-faced phaggot. Welcome to hell, population: you
I could've beem a Luftwaffe ace, you know.
One day Celestia was at home knitting when he heard a knock at the door. "Princess, can I come in?" asked a soft angelic voice. The Savior looked up. Her "21" year old adopted son, Pipsqueak, was at the bedroom door. "Of course, my son. Please come in." She patted his lap and motioned for her son to sit there, which she did. "Princess, I have a question. Sometimes my pee-pee gets hard, and when I touch it, I feel really good. Am I getting sick?" Celestia chuckled. "No, honey child. You are growing up, becoming a man, just like your father and I. It is a natural impulse for you to feel that when you think about girls."
"But Princess,", said Pipsqueak, "it doesn't happen when I think about girls. It happens when I think about boys like Rumble, Big Macintosh ,and, uh... and you"
"Oh... Oh my..." Celestia was shocked, but she was also feeling something else, too. Something in her robes.
"Princess, what is touching me?"
Celestia suddenly realized that she was fully erect. "Pipsqueak, I had no idea that you were a homosexual, but now that you know I think it's time for me to teach you about making love."
She pushed his son to the floor. Her five inch penis jutted from her robes. "Now I want you to-" but she stopped, because her son had already inhaled it and was giving a blowjob almost as good as his dad!
"Oh, oh Pipsqueak!" Celestia shouted as he blasted his semen in her baby boy's mouth. Before her son could spit his mother's gift out, Celestia hauled him to her feet and shared a deep tongue kiss with him. When they went to go to wash together in the tub, they saw an imposing figure standing in the doorway. "Luna!" gasped Celestia. The Six-foot five figure in the door frame trembled with the titanic rage that is characteristic of her race.
"Pipsqueak. Go to your room."
"but-"
"I SAID GO!"
The boy scrambled to his bedroom, still dazed from his experience. "Luna, I'm - I'm so sorry." Both ponies were crying now. "Why?" begged Luna. Celestia couldn't look her bitch in the eye.
"Luna... when I was a girl... Discord did the same thing to me!" Celestia sobbed.
At first, Luna froze, not knowing what to say to this revelation. She could see how vulnerable the Lord was at that very moment, though, so he said "C'mere, kiddo," and gave him a hug. "Don't worry, we'll get through this. Together." She smooched Celestia.
"I love you, Celestia. I'll always love you, no matter what. Pipsqueak? Pipsqueak, come here!"
Pipsqueak came in the room and they all exchanged chaste hugs and kisses, then went out for ice cream.
