Holy shmaoley, what did you just say about me, you little Philistine? I'll have you know I fought my way to the top of my class in Royal Woods' annual beauty pageants and I have over 300 confirmed wins.
I am trained in sashaying, and I am the top prima donna in the entire state of Michigan. You are nothing to me, but just another nayasayer. I will trash talk you out with precision the likes of which had never been seen before on this Earth, you better believe it.
You think you can get away with saying that filth to me over the internet? Think again, friend. As we talk, I am rallying up my family for my defense, and Lisa's tracking your IP address right now. So you better prepare for the reckoning, mister. The reckoning that wipes out the humorous little thing you call your life. You're done, sir. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can make your life miserable in 700 ways. And that's just with my pretty, little hands.
Not only am I extensively trained in strutting my stuff, but I have access to a legion of Lisa's inventions, and I will use them to their full extent to wipe your gross tushie off the continent. You little ingrate, if only you'd have known what righteous retribution your "adorable" little comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would've held your germ-filled tongue.
But you couldn't, you didn't, now's the payback time. You stupid slanderer, I will fling fury all over you. And you will drown in it.
You're dead, buddie.