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More Classic Copypastas
Who’s Joe? Joe Momma
"Who’s joe?" a distant voice asks.
Instantly everyone nearby hears the sound of 1,000s of bricks rapidly shuffling towards his location.
The earth itself seemed to cry out in agony, until finally the ground itself split open and a horrific creature crawled from the ground, covered in mucus and tar.
”Joe Momma…” the creature whispered.
The man cried out in pain as he disintegrated into dust, and the whole world fell silent in fear.
"I did a little trolling." the wretched creature remarked before burrowing back into the earth.
"Who’s joe?" a distant voice asks.
Instantly everyone nearby hears the sound of 1,000s of bricks rapidly shuffling towards his location.
The earth itself seemed to cry out in agony, until finally the ground itself split open and a horrific creature crawled from the ground, covered in mucus and tar.
”Joe Momma…” the creature whispered.
The man cried out in pain as he disintegrated into dust, and the whole world fell silent in fear.
"I did a little trolling." the wretched creature remarked before burrowing back into the earth.
YOU DON'T GET TO TENTACLE ME OCTO-CHAN!
twitchquotes:⧹╲⎝⧹ ⎠╱⧸⎠ YOU DON'T GET TO TENTACLE ME OCTO-CHAN! ⧹╲⎝⧹ ⎠╱⧸⎠
ヽ༼ ͠ ͠°〜 ͜ʖ〜 ͠ ͠° ༽ノ¤=[———— Hello. My name is Inigo Dongtoya. You killed my Kappa. Prepare to die.
Bumper Ameng burger
twitchquotes:Bumper stared at the burger in his hand. Normally, he loved chowing down on his Big Mac like he chowed on these beta tanks like Swon or Muma or Super. But not today. Today, this burger was a sign of his failure. The double patties of meat reminded him not of succulent juicy beef but only the mighty veiny vascular muscles of Ameng. The seeded bread buns? It was Ameng’s cheeks as he squatted on Bumper’s face. The tomato? It was his blood dripping off Ameng’s hammer. The mayo? You know what it is
Bumper stared at the burger in his hand. Normally, he loved chowing down on his Big Mac like he chowed on these beta tanks like Swon or Muma or Super. But not today. Today, this burger was a sign of his failure. The double patties of meat reminded him not of succulent juicy beef but only the mighty veiny vascular muscles of Ameng. The seeded bread buns? It was Ameng’s cheeks as he squatted on Bumper’s face. The tomato? It was his blood dripping off Ameng’s hammer. The mayo? You know what it is