[for added effect: imagine samuel l. jackson reading this]
fudge. i’m talking fudge. i’m talking lots of fudge, like fifty pounds of fudge. just here on this table. just sitting right here in the middle of the table, looming over the table like it owned the whole goddamn room. and, look, i’m human. i’m like you. i see fifty pounds of fudge on a table and i want to eat it. i want to consume it. i want to rub it all over my body, i want to stick it up my ass, i want all of that. but i don’t. and you know why? because it’s not. mine. it’s not my fudge! it’s the director’s fudge, and the director’s going to be here in ten minutes and he doesn’t have his goddamn fudge. now imagine if you went somewhere with full knowledge that a significant amount of fudge would be available to you, once you arrived. it doesn’t have to be fudge, per se. whatever makes you happy. pussy. you guys are all teenagers, right? we’ll say pussy. fifty pounds of dripping wet pussy, the mome–okay let’s say 120 pounds of dripping wet pussy, fifty pounds makes you sound like a pedophile–the moment you step in the door. now imagine if some fucking shitheads came in before you arrived and took your pussy. you’re sitting in your car, dick hard as a diamond, just waiting for that moment where you throw the doors open like fucking aragorn in that lord of the rings bullshit, and there’s this mound of pussy for you to pump your tiny teenage dicks into. oh man it’s gonna feel so good, it’s gonna feel so good you’re gonna cum in like ten seconds, just like the director is gonna eat all that fudge in ten seconds. except it’s not there. because some SHITHEADS took it. they took your precious pussy. that’s what the director is going to think once he’s arrived. “they took my fudge,” he’ll think. and then he will murder all of us. so before he steps in that door and shoots each one of you in the back of your dumb skulls, somebody fucking PIPE UP and tell me where that fucking FUDGE IS!
