Stop the presses;
Rodent Gets Last Pre-Christmas IGTG-i-t-DCB thingamajig!
Bwaaaa, haaaa, haaaa!
Yo Cow-boyee; way back in the frigid and waning days of two naught naught seven (when you were ignoring your cattle and busily modding a small yet influential interweb-thingie knife community [ahhh..., the glory days of bladeforumsdotcom]), I dutifully wrote out a check, put it in an envelope, addressed the envelope:
Meester Largish-Medium Sized North American Predatory Cat Allen (ML-MSNAPCA)
#### ML-MSNAPCA's Street
ML-MSNAPCA's Fair City, ML-MSNAPC'As State, and zip code.
I waited and waited, then I waited some more. I think I may have even forgotten to undertake a few important bodily functions while I have waited, but I digress. As of yesterday's mail no coolio-moolio tactical bracelet of any kind has yet graced my personage. I checked my checking account (I may have even double checked checked my checking account) and check number #### was never cashed! I am suspicious! Some ninjas must have intercepted my envelope to you and left me tactical bracelet-less in a futile effort to hinder my coolness (I say "piffle" to them). The only other explanation is you have decided to keep the check with my signature "
Ratius Stuphius, Phud" what with your keen insight into future trends realizing it will increase in value to a quarter of a tenth of a cent more than the paper it is written on. If the latter is the case, I will be more than happy to send you a separate autograph, a more personal one, perhaps onna picture of my furry personage with my enormous ball sack stuphed into a speedo. If it was the ninja's, well they can just kcasymkcil! In any case, I have almost worn a hole in my front porch and I could possibly explode at any moment due to previously mentioned bodily functions (bf) issues, due to waiting. I am thinking we need to make another arrangement, one that insures that no stinkin' ninjas will be involved and that will allow me some sorely needed bf time. Perhaps I will have to resort to using the hated Paypal (the Devil's Coinpurse), even though it has been reputed to be infiltrated with stinkin' ninjas (could they just take a shower every now and then; really, how would that hurt).
I hope this missive finds you and your three cows, Mrs. Wogus, Mrs. Wurzburger, and Mrs. Wiggins (bonus points for origin of the latter three sans interweb-thingie lookup),
rats...