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Pop Tarts and the Art of War

Well today I went to go toast my pop tarts…. I push the handle down and nothing…  Ok, so I look in there and there are busted chunks of pop tart charcoal in the bottom.  I dare to push it down again this time with great dexterity and force.  So now it starts smoking.  Well it turns out I didn’t get to toast my tarts to golden brown goodness but instead to barely warm.  I was a little pissed.  Then walks in portzer #1 who began giggling like a schoolgirl that peed in the rose bushes.  He admits as to doing it and laughs. 

DUDE, you do not f*** with a man toatsting his pop tarts.  I told him to take it out but he didn’t.  How the frick do you leave large chunks of pop tart in the toaster.  If you are so dinglish you don’t know how to remove a pop tart in one piece you do not deserve to live.  So says Portzer #2’s Art of War.  So I say to you portzer #1…. you shall pay.

He is in trouble.  As you know I grew up as a street brawler.  I fought for cash money.  The only reason I’m here and not battling underground ‘Lionheart/Jean-Claude Van Damme’ style is that I needed to end my violent ways.  I put the life behind me, but the art I still practice.  My Shidoshi has taught me to control my violent outburst, but as I start my day I expect to be able to eat a friggin pop tart without any fear of under-toastage.   So for that portzer #1 I give you warning.  Pray that I do not find you in the parking lot or in the break room or…

Can of Whoop Aspirin

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