The Vegan Death Cult is on to me. They've found out about my spotlight of justice. I can smell their soy based mock meat breath around each corner.
I arrived home the other day to find this (click the picture to enlarge and read)
Apparently I've made a donation to their evil cause. They also sent me a DVD to enjoy with my friends and family. Even if I smoked angel dust and drank a backyard hose length of Captain Morgan's Carribean Vomit Rum, I'd never find myself willingly parting with my scarce funds to support Grand Master Ching Hai's bid to enslave mankind in some sort of snuggy wearing chickpea flatulence feudal utopia.
I've been set up, ratted out, turned upon. The Vegan Death Cult obviously has many eyes, more eyes than a spider (which as many twelve year olds will tell you - has more than seven eyes). Some brainwashed Ching Hai sex slave has impersonated me and donated on my behalf. This is character assassination, defamation, pickle-fixing, libel and slander salamander.
So now VDC knows where I rest my head at night. They're probably driving by my house in a white tarago as a type this. I can see it now, four cult members dressed in tracksuit pants and sandals, and matching Supreme Master TV T-shirts. Each shirt marked with a different shade of glutenous muck.
Oh they want to shut me up, they want to scare me into silence, but not this time, oh not this time. I'm going to turn the spotlight up to extrabright (flick the switch from the one dot setting to the two dot setting!). VDC; you're days are numbered.
Also, I'm probably not going to watch you're DVD, well I probably will but It's not going to work. My torch has many batteries and my pen publishes the truth.
ALSO, ALSO, who signs a letter off with a photo of themselves talking on a mobile phone?
No comments:
Post a Comment