1) Someone whose ribcage you'd like to tear open with the claw end of a hammer so you can defecate in his chest cavity.
2) Somebody who should have his head nailed to the floor while being sodomized with a cheesecloth-sack full of a thousand angry bees.
Zeke: My request for a new chair was rejected because of that sick twisted disturbed fuck. I tell ya, someone ought to force him at gunpoint to face-fuck a wild boar.
A poem, spoken by hillbillies, that *sounds* something like haiku but doesn't scan like it. A hillbilly haiku doesn't fit the 5-7-5 syllable scheme, or even have three lines, because hillbillies can't count.
This is a hillbilly haiku.
Dead, dead dogs.
Fat creature which is ordinarily tame but occasionally bursts into psychotic rages for no apparent reason.
Clyde: What the hell happened to you?!
Zeke: Good god, all I said was I didn't like eating at that new restaurant and she turned into a friggin' psychopotamus!
A receptionist of dubious sexual identity.
Zeke: The new receptionist's voice is kinda husky, don't you think?
Clem: That's because we've hired a manceptionist.
Not a regular chip, it's a Muncho.
It's a regular chip, not a Muncho!
An urban "Skunk-Ape"; City dwelling relative of the Sasquatch. Often mistaken as the "Missing Link". Unkempt in appearence, of poor posture, with grimy, thin hair of varying length, and an odor that is an all-out assault on the olfactory senses. Largely unfamiliar with hygenic practices of all aspects. Often seen loping around an office digging through trash for coupons and other discarded treasures. Treats ordinary everyday roadblocks as dire, emergency situations. Extremely unskilled with the simplest of office tools and machinery.
The Skape is going nuts because the stapler is jammed! Look out! I think it's going to musk!
Facially porcine middle manager with greasy skin and absolutely no tact or common sense. Nasty, ill-tempered, whiny, hypocritical, and nonsensical. Lies constantly. Expects employees to violate the laws of physics, time & space, in order to get things done. Basically one of Tolkien's Orcs come to life.
Clyde: This is ridiculous. Joan wants me to move every box on the fifth floor and she want it done in the next twenty minutes! There's over 300 boxes! Why does she do this?
Zeke: Because she's a Pork Orc. Pork Orc! Pork Orc!