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AIIEEE KNOW AIIIEE KNOW AIIIIIEIEEEEEEMMMMMMMM NAT ON THA WOSTER screamed the ball clamped gimp from the kooks, over and over the radio did play it at nick's work. over and over, everyday it went on, drilling its high pitched banshee howls thru nicks sanity into the darkest recesses of his skull. one day, the sickness that spewed forth from nicks very soul needed to be purged. it had to happen now, there was no turning back, no way to free himself from this unrelenting hell... "HOW ABOUT YOU PUT THIS ON YOUR FUCKING WOSTER YOU CUNT!" Nick's very throat ripped at the volume and twisted frequency of his own screams, as he force fed a diptheria milkshake down that woster guys gullet. and peace did reign.
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