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There once was an old couple who lived in the arse end of nowhere with only their loyal butler, Buddy, for company.
One day, they're invited to a party and are so happy to be getting out of the house that they give Buddy the rest of the night off.
They go off to the party and have a grand auld time, but after a few hours the old woman feels sick and decides to go home. She arrives back and opens the front door to find Buddy standing alone in the hall.
"Buddy, come up to my room with me." she says.
He does.
When they get to the room , the woman sits on the bed and Buddy turns to leave.
"Buddy, take my shoes off." she says.
He does, and turns to leave again.
"Buddy, take my dress off." she says.
He does, and tries to leave for a third time.
"Buddy, take my bra off." she says.
He does, and hurries towards the door.
"And Buddy," she calls after him," If I EVER catch you wearing my clothes again, you're fired!"
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Victories do not simply happen.
Blood must be shed, a lot of blood, to achieve them and to lay them down at the feet of conquerers. Without the corpses and the scattered limbs you see on the plain where carnage is wisely practiced, there would be no war and, without war, there would be no victory, so legions of the night, nightbreed, rise thy weapons in warfare, for we are the apocalypse!
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