2001apr27.
“Ding dong! Yoo hoo!”
“Oh, it’s the Spammobile!”
“Hello, boys, would
you care for some tasty, delicious Spam?"
“Thank you ma'am. That’s mighty
kind of you, but we’re on guard duty.”
“Oh, I think you'll want
this slice of Spam ... “
[The Spammobile driver removes a mini-gun
from inside the proffered can. There is a short and strange explosion of
motion – hands, feet, guns, small Spam keys, glistening pinkish meat. The
guards are incapacitated]
“Okay, Johnnie, clear those cans out.
Other Johnnie, you come with me, we’re got a date with
Fort Knox-type gold.”
