Well, I'll be sure to keep it mum then.
You're perverted little secret's safe with me. No worries, Fluffy.
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You don't mess with Hobbes
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.
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Now what did I just tell you?
You throw like a girl.
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If your face were any more hyperactive, you'd have a banana for a nose, you stupid fag!
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Thus concluding our search for the Worst Smack Ever Written.


(Psicosis, that means the search is over. No need to thank me.)
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If it looks like a fag, walks like a fag, and smacks like a fag... it's probably SECTION11, the stupid fag.
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I bet you think the snozzberries taste like strawberries, don't you, you stupid fag?
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Not a lot happening in Memphis tonight? You city slicker you...

I have to admit this much. You're admirable. In a pathetic, punch-drunk boxer who just keeps sticking his face in the ring kind of way, but admirable none the less.
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I'm pretty sure there's more happening in Memphis right now than in that sprawled-out hellhole* you call Phoenix, but that's beside the point, you fag.

*NTTAWWT, ENDelt.
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Eh, I'm running low on inspiration here.
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You're running low on many things, but I'm glad that you picked an important item to tackle first, like Inspiration.
It's a long road back to respectability, but with a decision like this you'll be there in no time.
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Let go of the stuffed animal, son.

I know that looking up can be as scary as looking down, but don't you fret little fella. I'm here to help.
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Aren't there some bars you could be going to with Greg Louganis right now, you fag?
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You're just not very good at this. But I appreciate the effort.
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