Today I reveal myself to you in all my terrible glory: the eater of small things, the interdimensional devourer foretold in the fevered scribblings of Reggie Lovecraft. Look on my infinite maw of gibbous horror and despair, mere mortal, for this is the end of your pitiful existence.
ROAR.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
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On the horizon, a lone figure stands in defiance of The Eater™. While his jacket flaps badassily in the wind, The Ooter looks up with thin eyes and says, "You just ate your last meal, amigo."
He reaches for his trusty sawed-off shotgun, spins around, and throws the firearm into the mass of teeth and tentacles with all of his might.
OOTED!!!
Damn the Ooter. He always gets the drop on me. I don't know how he does it.
He even pauses to deliver a one-liner before he oots. It's crazy.
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