Me: So, you are obviously the big d!ck. The men on the side of ya are your balls. There are two types of balls. There are big brave balls, and there are little mincey faggot balls.
Him: These are your last words, so make them a prayer.
Me: Now, d!cks have drive and clarity of vision, but they are not clever. They smell pu$$y and they want a piece of the action. And you thought you smelled some good old pu$$y, and have brought your two small mincey faggot balls along for a good old time. But you've got your parties mangled up. There's no pu$$y here, just a dose that'll make you wish you were born a woman. Like a pr!ck, you are having second thoughts. You are shrinking, and your two little balls are shrinking with you. And the fact that you've got "Replica" written down the side of your gun... [
Zoom in on the side of his gun, which indeed has "REPLICA" etched on the side; zoom out, as they sneak peeks at the sides of their guns] ...and the fact that I've got "Desert Eagle point five O"... [
Withdraw my gun and put it on the table] ...written down the side of mine... [
They look, zoom in on the side of my gun, which indeed has "DESERT EAGLE .50" etched on the side] ...should precipitate your balls into shrinking, along with your presence. Now... FERK OFF!