All the other times they had raided newsstands, fruit stands, and apartments. But it would be the toughest one that they had ever pulled. Holding up Blum ought not take more than two minutes, at the most. Then all four of them could lock Blum in the store and run out through the back and duck down the alley and meet an hour later, either at Doc’s poolroom or at the South Side Boys’ Club, and split the money. One of them could hold a gun on Blum and keep him from yelling one could watch the front door one could watch the back and one could get the money from the box under the counter. From three o’clock to four o’clock in the afternoon there was no policeman on duty in the block where Blum’s Delicatessen was and it would be safe. If they could, it would mean some sure and quick money. Should he go to the poolroom and talk with them? But there was no use in his going unless they were ready to do what they had been long planning to do.
"You let whoever pays you off win!" (1.171-174) "You crook," he mumbled, shaking his head. Above the top of the poster were tall red letters: YOU CAN’T WIN! He snuffed his cigarette and laughed silently.
#WE REGRET BEING ALIEN BASTARDS MOVIE#
The poster showed one of those faces that looked straight at you when you looked at it and all the while you were walking and turning your head to look at it it kept looking unblinkingly back at you until you got so far from it you had to take your eyes away, and then it stopped, like a movie blackout.
He looked at the poster: the white face was fleshy but stern one hand was uplifted and its index finger pointed straight out into the street at each passer-by. Boy, if I was in his shoes for just one day I’d never have to worry again." When the men were through they gathered up their pails and brushes and got into the truck and drove off. "I bet that sonofab**** rakes off a million bucks in graft a year. He looked at the round florid face and wagged his head. "He’s running for State’s Attorney again." The men were slapping the poster with wet brushes. "That’s Buckley!" He spoke softly to himself. They were pasting a huge colored poster to a signboard. Be careful though, the Elites guarding him are really his sex slaves, and will get really, REALLY pissed off if you do.With his hands deep in his pockets, another cigarette slanting across his chin, he brooded and watched the men at work across the street. Regret has some majorly big ass guns on the side of his giant dildo which amazingly can GO THROUGH HIS FUCKING BLACK MAN HANDS!!!!!1!! Just jump on his chair while he's not looking, and punch his knobby little head. Dead prophet tastes excellent with almost any dish, and it is important not to waste such a delicasy. When fighting Regret it is important to bring steak sause.
#WE REGRET BEING ALIEN BASTARDS TV#
Not getting a girlfriend instead of sitting around watching TV (we all regret that).Buying so many shares in major industries during an economic high, then watching their worth plummet.That the corps just blew up their raggedy ass fleet.Things that The Prophet of Regret regrets He also regrets being taken home in a body bag (thanks to the Master Chief). The Master Chief substituted a plasma pistol for a rocket launcher, and all he did was die. He likes MC Hammer and tried to sing like him, but all that came out was gibberish, so Cortana had to translate it. When it does, Regret shall stand in front of it like the n00b he is, and be sent along the Great Journey. He likes carrying pimp pistolz, and believes someday that a giant plasma pistol will light the Sacred Rings. In short, he led a short, but faggy life. The Prophet of Reggie was one of the three leaders of the Covenant before he was pwned and punched by Almighty Grunts. Regret regretting Dear Humanity We regret being alien fuckers we regret coming to Disneyland And we most definitely regret that the MC just blew up our raggedy-ass fleet! - translation of Regret begging for his miserable life. This article is too damned short, Marine! You will help Gruntipedia by making it larger so it will fit the screen, fool!