"Awh but Mr shields, I ain't done anything with one uh THESE buhfore," Mike stammered. He tried to make eye contact, but was obstructed by a saggy, amorphous blob of fat. Dave replied, "As Shakespeare once said, graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the peasant fountains lie...." All of a sudden, a large crash from outside was followed by screams of bloody murder. The Booty O's were here. And horny as ever. "RUN SO FORTH!!!" Screamed W. They both bolted out of the closet door, only to be greeted by the alpha Booty O himself. "DONT TAKE ME GOING ON..... YOU CAN HAVE HIM SO FORTH COMING IN TO PLAY PLEASE" The Booty O's, turned on by W's sophisticated and refined use of the English language, grabbed him by his cable knit sweater and dragged him out of the room. Michael began to grunt and snarl, chasing after his new lover with a gorilla- like form. Upon entering the hallway, Michael realized that the booty O's had committed a total massacre. Everyone in the building was left for dead, besides an unlikely 5, all cowering in a corner: Corell, Sarah Noelle, Mark Maurer, Harry, and Chad.
