GET DAT FUKKEN DISK

[Superlagg]

Flamethrower in hand, I tout it to flout the law. Like an asshole, I tout and I flout and I hop and I trot and I zip down the hallways looking for someone to bat an eye.

But no eyes are bat, no batons go on. My act to attract an attack of the law failed even to garner the ardor of Harner. A feat I hope to later repeat, after we beat the seat of the creeps who think to treat our meat to a heat replete with nuclear fire and atoms and shit. Starting to get worried, maybe he's hurt? Jeepers yee creepers, the Beepers is dead!

Good fucking riddance. Arrest me for burning down the blob, will he? Fuck the law, he'd just zap me and leave me for the syndies to kill me. Hell was I thinking?

Ah well. Got me a flamethrower. Guess I'll go set something on fire.

Which reminds me! Extinguisher! I grab one of those for when I inevitably set myself on fire. Or whatever this fuel mixture does. Mystery pills and Discount Dan's have got to do *something* in a flamethrower.

I hop trot down the halls toward the nearest reported Syndie location, seeking to throw some fire at them. If I see the clown or, really, anyone else in the hallway, I'll give them a spray.

All while yelling some shit about anarchy.