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Goodbye everyone, this was a nice troll

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I sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of soaring over the oilfields dropping hot sticky loads on disgusting foreigners. People say to me that a person being a helicopter is Impossible and I’m fucking retarded but I don’t care, I’m beautiful. I’m having a plastic surgeon install rotary blades, 30 mm cannons and AMG-114 Hellfire missiles on my body. From now on I want you guys to call me “Apache” and respect my right to kill from above and kill needlessly. If you can’t accept me you’re a heliphobe and need to check your vehicle privilege. Thank you for being so understanding
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>be a guard 
>work's tough as shit 
>you're put in charge of the storage 
>on the night shift 
>fml 
>it's getting late 
>you lock the storage and make sure nobody's coming 
>you take a light nap 
>later, you hear sounds from the storage 
>place must be settling 
>whatevermayn.jpg 
>feel a tap on your shoulder 
>you look up from your slumber 
>there's this cat bitch staring you in the eye 
>she's got the widest grin possible 
>she leans into your ear 
>she whispers "Fus" 
>holyshitmysongetthefuckout 
>too late 
>she shouts "ROH DAH!" 
>you fly into the storage 
>face first 
>it's taking all your strength not to shit yourself 
>the next day you get fired for creating a nuisance and stealing goods >godFUCKINGdamnit.jpg
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K
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Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species. To this end, I hold M&M duels.
Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them cracks and splinters. That is the"loser," and I eat the inferior one immediately. The winner gets to go another round.
I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the intense theatre of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world.
Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra strength. In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment.
When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd. Since it would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc., Hackettstown, NJ 17840-1503 U.S.A., along with a 3x5 card reading, "Please use this M&M for breeding purposes."
This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon for a free 1/2 pound bag of plain M&Ms. I consider this "grant money." I have set aside the weekend for a grand tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will discover the True Champion.
There can be only one. 

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THIS BE SOME UUUULTRA RARE DANK SHIT RIGHT HERE!
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What was this before?

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Ayy.

The best part is that I know where that picture is from
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