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Hippity 🐰hoppity 🐰HOES 👯its Easter 📅🍭🍫and you 👉🏻know what that means. 👅👄💦💦💦Big 🐇bunny 🐰daddy 😫😫😫is going to bring all his sluttiest 😏😳chicks 🐥🐥some of his sweet 🍫candy🍬 DICK 🍆💦👅Jesus 👳🏾died 🙅🏻❌for a whole 💝life of sin😏😏😏, but the Easter 🥚🥚🥚Daddy👱🏻 only CUMS 😫🍆once 1️⃣a year😳. Send➡️ this to 1️⃣5️⃣of your SLUTTIEST 🚺🚺🚺disciples 💒to get bunny 🐇CUMMIES 💦💦💦for your Easter 🍫🐥🐰and have daddy 👱🏻🐇put his white😏❕ chocolate 😩🍫CUM 🍦into one1️⃣ of your👉🏻 eggs. If you get ❌🚫none❌🙅🏻🤦🏻‍♀️ back you’re 👉🏻a stillborn🚼❎ egg 🥚🍳(prude) 👼🏻😒😒if you get five 5️⃣back you’re 👉🏻daddies 🐇peep🐣🐣🐣 show if you get 1️⃣0️⃣ back 😩you’re a chocolate🍫🍫 WHORE 😏👯if you get all 1️⃣5️⃣ you’re daddies🕺🏼 CARROT 🥕🥕💦💦CUMPIE 🍰🍰🍰

I finally did it. I out-pizza'd the Hut. It was the greatest mistake of my life. After years of perfecting my recipe, I made my way down to the local hut, fresh-baked pizza pie in hand. "Try this," I told the kid working the counter. He did, and he had to agree that it was better than anything Pizza Hut had to offer. Soon, the entire store, customers included, was feasting on my delicious pie. The manager walked over, grabbed a slice, and took a bite. I look at him, anticipation rising. This was the boss, the local fief lord of the Hut. His approval meant more to me than all the rest combined. He took a bite and nodded. "I'll be damned," he said, "you really did it. You out-pizza'd the Hut. Shame." Shame? What did he mean by tha- the manager pulled a gun out from behind his apron and shot the nearest customer in the head. "We have a Code Jalapeño," he said into his wrist as he executed the remaining customers. "I repeat, we have a Code Jalapeño." The ground was slick with blood. The kid working the counter choked out his dying breath as the manager turned to me. "You just had to do it motherfucker. You just had to out-pizza the Hut." He shoved the gun in my face. I was too scared to fight, too scared to run. The manager pulled the trigger. A click. The gun was empty. I threw a chair at the manager and scrambled out of the Pizza Hut, not even bothering to see if my missile hit its mark. I was closely pursued by the manager, who had gotten his hands on a deadly sharp pizza cutter. I suspected in his hands it would cut more than pizza. Somehow, I was able to get into my car and speed off, the manager cursing my existence as I left him behind. I took a deep breath. The manager was clearly psychotic. Yes, that was it, just a crazy man with a gun. It had to be. My phone rang. Sister. I picked it. "They're dead, she sobbed. They're all dead. M-mom, dad, Chris, Bill. Dead. They killed them all." I could barely understand her, so great were her sobs. "What do you mean? Where are you?" I asked urgently. "How is this possi-" a single gunshot sounded through my phone's speakers. Silence. Then, I heard a man's voice. "No one out-pizzas the Hut." He hung up. I drove down the empty county road, mind blank. I had nothing. They killed my family. I was alone. At that moment I knew what I had to do. They took everything from me. Well then, I would take everything from them. Pizza Hut was so terrified of being out-pizza'd, they forgot there's one thing worse than a man with a recipe: A man with nothing to lose. I'll give them a limited time offer they won't be able to refuse: two bullets for the price of one. With a free side order of pain.

K? K what? The letter before L? The letter after J? Did you know that in JK the K stands for “kidding?” So your reply is “kidding?” or K as in Potassium? Do you need some Special K for breakfast? K as in I can K/O you? Can I knock you out and feed you to hungry sharks? Sharks have a K in it. "K"? Are you fucking kidding me? I spent a decent portion of my life writing all of that and your response to me is "K"? Are you so mentally handicapped that the only letter you can comprehend is "K" - or are you just some fucking asshole who thinks that with such a short response, he can make a statement about how meaningless what was written was? Well, I'll have you know that what I wrote was NOT meaningless, in fact, I even had my written work proof-read by several professors of literature. Don't believe me? I doubt you would, and your response to this will probably be "K" once again. Do I give a fuck? No, does it look like I give even the slightest fuck about a single letter? I bet you took the time to type that one letter too, I bet you sat there and chuckled to yourself for 20 hearty seconds before pressing "send". You're so fucking pathetic. I'm honestly considering directing you to a psychiatrist, but I'm simply far too nice to do something like that. You, however, will go out of your way to make a fool out of someone by responding to a well-thought-out, intelligent, or humorous statement that probably took longer to write than you can last in bed with a chimpanzee. What do I have to say to you? Absolutely nothing. I couldn't be bothered to respond to such a worthless attempt at a response. Do you want "K" on your gravestone? Do you want people to remember you as the asshat who one day decided to respond to someone with a single letter? "Hey, look, everybody! It's that "K" guy!" That's who you are. You're going to be known as the "K" guy. How does it feel? Do you feel happy? Quite honestly, I don't care, which is why I'm not even going to respond to you. Goodbye, and good luck with your future as that guy who said "K".

Hi Sophie, Thank you for your application to Team KFC. We're cluckin' delighted you're keen to join our flock, however at this moment in time your skills aren't the secret recipe the Colonel is looking for. But we'd love to hear from you again when you have some more experience under your wing, so please give us a cluck if you would like to apply in the future. Best Wishes, Team KFC