I am preparing to slaughter 20 sheep in an attemp to apease the Gods of Hitech. (Raises Sacrificial Knife, makes a real mess on my den floor, while my nieghbors call the police)
I ask, Oh Great Ones, The you bless your humble minions with that which makes us most subseviant to your greatness.
Oh, Gods of Hitech, Hear our plea! Grant us new crates, So that we may smite our enemies mercilessly.
Yea, give us the arms of your mightiness, So that our enemies may know your wrath.
Let us bring forth the destruction that they so deserve, Oh supreme biengnesses.
Yea, that we humbley fly your already great acomplishments, we beseech the of thy greatness to give us new and more destructive, and more fun wings of the angels!
Thy greatness is known, Thy greatness is good, But some new plane sets woud be really squeakin'!!!
(last sheep moans death sigh, Now how the hell am I going to explain this mess to the cops?)
