Do you remember the ancient Klingon proverb that says, "Revenge is a dish best served cold?" All my life people have ridiculed me mercilessly: for my man breasts (which are a serious medical condition!!!), for my strict moral adherence to Federation code, and for my involuntary and prodigious salivating when near females. (ALSO a medical condition!!!) But you know what? Brad isn't gonna take it anymore! Brad's pissed off! Brad's gonna start taking names and kicking ass. And you know what else? I'M BRAD! So like, here are all the people who are gonna be damned sorry! Welcome to my payback buffet!
I will leave you Darryl, as you left me…hog-tied, gagged, a horrible wedgie chafing the tender patch between my scrotum and anus, and locked in a sorority house's basement closet, wearing nothing but a frozen wonder bra overflowing with fetid and decaying sardines!
Betty tasks me. She tasks me. But she is not the first woman to not return my calls. So you're not so special, okay? Suck on this, honey: I'm not gonna return your calls, either. Yeah. And when you call me (which you will!), you'll wonder, "Why won't that ferocious stud Brad stoop to service me?" Why indeed, Betty? Why indeed?
Your momma, Kurt, your momma. Yes, your momma suckles at my greedy and ample teat. And she enjoys the taste Kurt. Says it complements her morning bowl of ALL BRAN, Kurt! So who's laughing now, Mister Funny-Man-Who-Talks-Trash-About-My-Family?!!
I will chase you Trent… round the parking lot of Pizza Hut, through the aisles of Blockbuster, down the HOV lane of the Interstate, all the way to your crappy condo in the hills. And then I'll wait for you. But you won't know I'm there. I'll be camouflaged. Maybe as a bush, or as a mailbox, or maybe I'll wear a moustache and a bowler hat. You'll never know. But I'll be watching. Always watching...
Tell me Carol, when you stare into the abyss… do you see me flipping you the birdie? Or are you too busy staring into a mirror, you preening hussy? Thank God for the office party, and digital cameras, and for the Internet. And thank God you laughed at me when I smiled at you, because I've decided that you're totally beneath me!
Are those crunchy little cockroaches in your precious salad bar, Charles? For shame, Charles. Your customers don't like crunchy little cockroaches, do they? Flame-broil that, Mr. Big Important Job Manager! You're not the only chicken nugget game in town!!!
She loves you, does she Frank? Well, will she still love you after she sees these pornographic pictures of you anally penetrating a suckling pig? I think not. Vengeance, thy name is PhotoShop!
Yes, little Timmy, that was human excrement in your sandbox. Perhaps as the horror of that reality shatters your tranquil playtime, you'll take a moment to ponder the future consequences should you ever decide to call me "muffin ass" again!
Fine - be that way, Christine. I should have known better than to waste my short story writing talents on you. Next time, I'll pen the adventures of some other curvaceous ensign from astrometrics, who wisely accompanies me to Risa for a sex-drenched four day shore leave. So put that in your restraining order and smoke it, ICE QUEEN!

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