Announcer: On our last installment of Trapped in Bob’s Closet, Spamrider was able to type out a new message thanks to Don Knotts, The Professor from a real Gilligan’s Island existing in another universe where Dimension Lord Gary Coleman had previously schnizzled him from. We now join Spamrider, Gary, and Melissa the old Chick Shit chick in Bob’s closet.
Spamrider: This cell phone charger works great, Gary! Thanks for schnizzling Don Knotts over to make it for us. I just hope we don’t run out of mothballs.
Gary Coleman: It’s ok. I know of a universe where everything is made out of mothballs. I can just schnizzle over there anytime and bring us back enough mothballs to run that cellphone for years.
Spamrider: It’ll be obsolete before then. Nothing lasts for years anymore.
Gary: I don’t know what kind of world you people have been running out there since Bob faked my death and threw me in this closet but it seems pretty whack.
Spamrider: If you only knew the half of it…
Melissa the old Chick Shit chick: STOP TOUCHING ME!!!
Spamrider: Nobody’s touching you.
Gary Coleman: She’s been like that ever since Bob faked her death and threw her in this closet.
Spamrider: It sounds like Bob fakes everybody’s death. I wonder if he faked my death too. Say…since you’re a Dimension Lord why don’t you just schnizzle somewhere else into our own universe and tell everybody you’re still alive and stop living in Bob’s closet?
Gary Coleman: I kind of like being dead. The food here is awesome, and until you showed up nobody had asked me to say, “Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?” for over 15 years.
Spamrider: Say it again! Say it again!
Gary Coleman (sighs): Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?
[Melissa the old Chick Shit chick starts crying again. Bob kicks the door and tells her to shut the hell up, which only makes her cry harder.]
Gary Coleman: Fuck this shit, Willis. I’m outta here!
[Gary Coleman schnizzles off to parts unknown. The Spamrider of the Apocalypse lies down and tries to take a nap while Melissa the old Chick Shit chick sobs erratically and pulls out clumps of her own hair.]
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