FITmedia

Grab you some.

What Would It Be? The Guillotine? Hanging? The Chair? The Rack? The Chinese Water Torture? Hmmph. Mere Child's Play Compared To What Surely Awaited Me. You'll shoot your eye out.

Hay king, nay. Beet king, yay.

Amos was a hell of a man. He could trap the biggest, the meanest alligator, and he'd just use one hand. That's all he got left 'cause the alligator bit him! Left arm gone clean up to the elbow.

limousine ridin'-jet flyin'-kiss stealin'-wheelin' n' dealin'-son of a gun!

The Sunshine Skyway Bridge connects St. Petersburg and Terra Ceia across Tampa Bay. The current bridge was dedicated in 1987, and replaces an earlier version that was partially destroyed in a well-known 1980 maritime collision. Portions of that original bridge were sunk into the bay during demolition, and the approaches were turned into the longest fishing pier in the world, open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.

The big three. WWF circa 1988.

They send one of yours to the hospital, you send one of theirs to the morgue.

The Cream of the Crop. Rises to the Top. Best Santa there is. Past, present and future. Ho Ho Ho Yeah!

Cream of the crop, rises to the top! On balance, off balance, doesn't matter.

Home is where the heat is. Flahduh.

Dusty Rhodes. None other.

It's a blast!

Dock demon. Papermouth. Speck. Brush Hog. Slabs. Pure terror lies below. Wait for the thump.

Maybe bigfoot is an inter dimensional time traveler. No bones. Starting to make a little sense, isn't it?

You know there's no way I can handle a cage, man.

Get the tables

Don't go messin' with a country boy!

NO NO NO!! FIVE! FIVE!

Toot toot!

The irresistible force meets the immovable object.

Everybody's got a price.

Some say the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be.

Is that $200 an hour?

Look prettier than Miss Elizabeth in this one. Cream of the crop.

COME ON IN WHERE NIGHTMARES ARE THE BEST PART OF MY DAY!

Hey yo! All you've done so far is talk, man. Why don't you buy one of these shirts instead?

Union candy cane labor, only.

Union candy cane labor, only.

You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.

What Would It Be? The Guillotine? Hanging? The Chair? The Rack? The Chinese Water Torture? Hmmph. Mere Child's Play Compared To What Surely Awaited Me. You'll shoot your eye out.

This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny f***ing Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of a**holes this side of the nuthouse.

The soft glow of electric sex gleaming in the window. Careful. It's frageelay. It's a major award.