Wounded Bandit: The rancid outlook of your survival does not fare well in my brother's woods.
Crippled Crook: And dare the triple threat of my balls to challenge this assumption?
Wounded Bandit: Best wishes puny sally.
Crippled Crook: You'll wake with a dragon fly stuffed in your jammies.
Wounded Bandit: What a suggestion! You assume I still wear the footies of a kiddie. I sleep buck naked now pops.
Crippled Crook: What do you say about those dapper slippers Queen?
Wounded Crook: Easy enough to drop a stock of bank notes on subtle fashion. No biggie when you're a stealthy victor.
Crippled Crook: Don't hustle those bills too quickly for your own fast twitch, wouldn't want a hundo to rip a paper cut on your index finger.
Wounded Bandit: Pipe tight the water hole shut.
Crippled Crook: This is just where this discourse belongs. Fragile. Icy. Riproarin'.
Wounded Bandit: Simmer the challenge and focus on necessity brosef.
Crippled Crooks: Comes smooth from the lips of a second rate.
Wounded Bandit: I read in the news that the winner of the Continental Wiener Wurst Eating Contest suffered a rupture in his belly and spilled guts into the Golden Bowl.
Crippled Crook: Study nature, gimpy, for you can observe the dog chase the kangaroo bearing his wicked bite. And the dog might have more endurance for foot speed, but the kangaroo knows how to buy time by luring the doggy to a bog. Wading in the murky splash splash, the kangaroo pins the doggy head under the ripple's density and soon revels in the choke, gurgle, and gone limp doggy in the flotsam.
Wounded Bandit: Notice how I've called you doggy from the get go?