"I LIKE YOUR BOOTY, BUT I'M NOT GAY," Sonique's voice reverberated through the halls of Valhalla, where women made love to eels and dragons breathed their unholy countenance upon the constellations.
"SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Amy of the Slaying Shitgobblers screamed through her speakers, trying hard to focus on her newest arrival. It was a struggling, emo young man, guilty of writing attempted literary criticism and deconstruction on TVTropes. (Which were all true.)
Sonique desperately attempted to cover her bleeding mouth, but the hot beats spewed forth, reverberating with the pornographic bass hits. "I LIKE YOUR BOOTY, BUT I'M NOT GAY."
Mohammed the Great Nigger, his fried chicken made of human flesh and his watermelon from vaginas, angrily throw the book he was reading, depicting the holy orgasm of the holy Eggman, and unleashed the Egg's undead fury on it once more with his eye gatlings. The prose and grammar of the book was terrible, completely blaspheming his holiness.
Sonique thought about fried chicken.