Mage, because we need a mage to conjure up foils.
Don’t even know him already fuckin hate him
Yeah fuck that guy.
Some days i wish i was Sirbombalot, but on other i wish i was Missbombalot.
*sweats nervously but still flattered*
You would technically be ladybombalot…
What is going on here
No, he’d be madambomblot. Mister and misses, lord and lady, and sir and madam. That’s the way it goes.
What are we in France now? Do i have to turn my white shirt into a flag now?
One day, I’ll die and (possibly) go to the ol’ pearly gates. And that big God guy will ask me if I want to know anything and I’ll ask him how much money I’ve spent on Magic cards. He’ll look at me, then his little clipboard, then back at me, then probably shake his head in a disappointed manner.
Atleast you have magic cards, he doesn’t have any foil.
How The Breakfast Club was described to me:
- five people in detention (they’re already teenagers, movie can’t be great because teenagers are lame)
- one smokes I think? I don’t remember, one is dumb, one is a nerd, don’t remember
- friend said there was dancing and immediately my penis was very soft
- at the end of the movie I think everyone dies which was actually a pretty good ending
- they don’t actually fucking eat breakfast together (very disappointed, hate misnomers)
Wake up and feel the party, and a large pick on me.. If i die, its because i got a tick on my junk.