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All responses Most smiled responses
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I wouldn't be content being canadian.
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I don't know. Eggs?
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It was built using pretty much every known design pattern to man.
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I grab a rifle from under my table. It's loaded. We make a break for the exit, but the dominant animal orders the smaller one to lock the door. She complies. Shots are fired, but the beasts evade them. They have moves.
The bartender hangs himself. He doesn't want to be alive while they start to eat him. Little did he know that the raptors want to hunt, so they pay no attention to his body dangling above the beer tap.
I pass you the shotgun and make a break for the axe hanging above the cash register. The smaller raptor lunges for me, but slips on the crushed peanuts on the floor. I grab the axe, swing at the small raptor and cut off her tail. She screams, and the big raptor knows something is wrong. I say "Let's dance."
You've barricaded yourself behind a table, so I tell you to give me the shotgun. You try sliding it across the floor, but the remaining raptor stops it with the six inch retractable claw on its middle toe. It reaches down and grasps it awkwardly.
BOOM.
The raptor has learned how to shoot a gun. The blast startles him for a moment, but then he turns his attention to you in the corner. He sidesteps toward you. BOOM.
You look through the hole left in the table from the blast, and he looks right back at you. "He must be out by now" you think. You're wrong. You never saw the third shot coming.
I'm all alone now (besides the raptor), and I'm all out of patience. I grab the CPR kit from behind the bar. Two smoke grenades inside. I knew I liked this bar for a reason. I pull the pin, throw a grenade at the raptor, and make for the pool table.
The raptor is confused. Now's my chance. I throw a pool cue at the chandelier, severing the chain from which it hangs. The raptor is crushed.
I finish my drink, throw $15 bucks on the bar. Sorry about the mess. Then it's time to go home. -
Because I wear them better. Way better.
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All penises are racist. Probably.
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