Fun with Craigslist, part 78653


Unicorn - $1000000 (New Baltimore)


Date: 2010-09-19, 6:10PM EDT
Reply to: sale-twyag-1962699519@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]


For Sale:

One white unicorn that shits bunny rabbits.

Name: Harvey S. Wildenbean.

He was a birthday present from my Grandmother, but I am unable to keep him because he is kind of a dick and gets on my nerves. I know the price is a bit steep, but seriously, it's a unicorn that shits bunny rabbits, people. It's not like I'm selling a turtle or something.


image 1962699519-0

Friday/ Saturday

Tim: "Tomorrow should be fun- my buddies are coming over with their Xbox, so we're going to blow some shit up and drink beer. If I get up early enough I might go along with them to the musket shooting range. You? Blowing any shit up, tomorrow? Musket activity?"

Tracy: "Nobody wants me armed. Nobody sane, anyway. I'm pretty much the reason for the gun laws, dude."

Tim: "You need a musket, dude."

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Tim: "You could get a blunderbus. You could fill it with marshmallows or something, then people will be all: 'OH SWEET MOTHER OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, THIS CRAZY PERSON HAS A GUN!.....BUT WAIT.....I AM BEING ASSAULTED WITH DELICIOUS SUGARY TREATS! LIFE IS INDEED A DELIGHT!"

Tracy: "I don't really inspire delight, especially when armed. Sad, but true."

Tim: "Have you tried using marshmallows? Cause that was really the crux of my argument."

Tracy: "I don't like marshmallows, unless they're in cereal. I should get a gun that fires cereal."

Tim: "You could go with Lucky Charms and please everyone- they're reputed to be magically delicious. People generally like things that are magically delicious."

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Tim: "I slept in really late, this morning, and at some point, FP crawled up and put his head on the pillows to one side of me, and Blind Shana did the same on the other. That probably looked like I had just had the most inappropriate night of my life."

Tracy: "That's lovely. Could have waited til after 8, though."

Tim: *sigh* "I made the effort to wait until after 6:30, dude. Your demands are becoming unreasonable."

Tracy: "I may have to kill you at this rate."

Tim: "You're grouchy in the morning. Go back to sleep."

Sonntag

Tim: "Es scheint nicht richtig dass Deutschland ein mangel an ninjas hat."

Tracy: "I'm sorry, I don't speak your crazy moon language."

Tim: "Not moon language, dude. GERMAN. Possibly that is also what moon-people speak, but I think that would be an astounding coincidence. I thought it would be nice to show our German readers some love. Because that is how I roll."

Tracy: "I maintain that speaking to me in a language I don't understand kind of makes you a douche, dude."

Tim: "I bet the Germans don't think I'm a douche right now. I submit the whole of Germany kind of trumps just one Tracy."

Tracy: "Surprise, dude. I am part German. And I still insist on your douchery."

Tim: "I am part German as well, and I must say that I am shocked and appalled at such indifference coming from a fellow partial countryman concerning our partial culture."

Tracy: "I think it's because I am mostly from Alsace-Lorraine and so naturally possessed of a certain "sod you" mentality."

Tim: "Aha. That would be the difference, then. I think I'm from the other part. You know, the part that does not lollygag around when it comes to reconnecting with my roots, especially when it concerns matters of such import. What's wrong with you, dude? Why do you hate matters of import?"

Tracy: "I don't think 'matters of import' means what you seem to think it means."

Tim: "You don't think the lack of ninjas in the Fatherland is a cause for concern? Is that what you are telling me? And the Fatherland?"

Tracy: "The very last thing the Fatherland needs is ninjas, dude. It messes with the fabled Teutonic efficiency."

Tim: "The Teutons? What was that, like 2000 years ago? I think you need to let go of the past, Fraulein."

Tracy: "You , pal, are a dork."

Tim: "Comments like that are why I never share my strudel with you, you know."

Tracy: "Dude, *sigh*. Never mind."

Tim: "Keine strudel fur sie, dude."

Tracy: "That sound you hear? That's the sound of my head exploding."