The Wyattest of Earp'z i7 of the ol' LT James Joyce. Unleashed another kunn'n'kong on the Donkey of Kongs. The kinga'klanga with the ranga'rung another drumm o'dee'ol sunn'of'a'gunnz'nunn. Freedumm would be soon be all the rage, the jug of life was strong'n this one here. The redeye't Swat'erd was ridin' passenger in a beautiful purple'en'green Jalopy. The jivin' A1Sauce was drivin'n he had his handcrafted kannon tucked into it's holster. But 2 bags sat in the back holdin'n on to th'ee ol 1921'z, 4 of them. 2 in each of 2 bags, that's 1 1921 for each rider in the jalopy'o'dee'ol seas. Purp'n'Green S'lean't Back on the Trackkz'o'dee'ol Lyf3. The 3'o'3z sat behind the I7. The B2 sat behin't'er'dly the A1. The jivin'n nese'nunn'z'ee'yuh was feckin' strong. The dunncest'o'dee'kuntz had his feet up on top of the passenger side compartment. 2 1911's tucked underneath his armpits, holster't like a proper gun'slang'n'erd'ee'deed'ed what with a who? The B2'bomm'uh sat with a 1911 holstered, and the 3'o'dee'3'z had, just like the lad'o'dee'lasses, 2 1911's tucked under the armpit holsters. i7 rockin' plat'n'black. The 3'o'3z sat with a gold'en with black trimm'n'n the drummz underneath each pit. Port'rt n'er'th Star'berd.

Bow of the Bow takes a stern't'ed Bow.

The USS ZMSG was jivin' with everyone in the car, the Moore'o'dea'ol Dood'lerz suddenly sleuthed up in the sloop of his seat. The curved back of the Stern'st'est Sunn o'dee'ol Sun relaxed back as the jiver and jogger steerin'ee'ol jalopy took a right on a thoroughfare. Smackdab in the middle o'dee'ol skreetz. What the fuck were these kannonz'o'dee'ol'konnz tryin'uh konnect wiff'da'whiff'ster'dly doo-da-doodily day-Z of the Dazed days. KonnectedKutter nods along as the car continues onn'n'ee'let's out a little toot with his snoot'o'dee'deviated type. This red'eye't'swamp'thang clearly knew his phylumm'n'drumm't on through the query'eye't canal of life. Toes of the forest flexed on a buncha hoe'boats n'deez'ee'ree'eery jalopy'o'dee'gypt'sea...

SKRRRRRRRRtttttttttttttt'd the script.

The A1 suddenly pulled his bandana up, the B2 and 3'oh'3 bow't down to pick up the bags holdin'n the real hammers of Tradition. The ion'of'eon'z'eonic'ion'o'dee'ol ikonnz'kunnin'konnected'kannonz let loose a 4 piece wix'th'uh pride of both sides of his brain. The Wickett'est Sunn unleashed another one by pullin'n'on up his black bandana that sat underneath. Snug as a rug, under the PaddyCap. The fedora was the hat'oh 'iss popz, and the pops'pap't his smear all over a little bit too fast for 'is'own't britcherz. The face o'dee North speakin'n duh' slang'o'dee'ol South

Huf't'n'uh'Pufft his spliff smoke out the window as the bank'n'job'o'dee'ol'forced'withdrawal'er that would surely give him his promotion to earner.

With a hard ER?!?!?!?!?!?!

The fuck does holistically mean?

He has 51 bambino gambinos, 2 pigs in a blanket, and 3 name'th'uh the Bambino'st'o'dee'ol'Gambino3z at his syde? And he's just a goofin'goomb'uh'w0t'the'fuck'lad'o'dee'd on what? With who? But when and where? Scenario set, B2 and 3'o'3 raise their bandanas. Signallin' that the job was about to begin. This one was personal. The bank was only a front for the Touch'e'th'uh'Down't one, the DurdyBurd hisself. Yarrp, that's the one. Tyler mother'flippin'n his Durden'z. With yee'ol Marla's singer'Songer'oh'de'ol'Swanner. The drumms of freedumbs were ready to hit hard and fast. There were 4 cops posted at the front door, none of them noticed 4 masked bandits pull in, 2 thompson'z were pass't up to dee'frunt'ed o'dee'ol seats of the jivin'jalopy'o'jalopies. Sweet. Dood'er'o'dee'On3'n'OnE'Lee smiled underneath his bandana. 4 1921's pointed at the front door. 4 1921 Annihilator'z'of'Annihaltion'i'on'th'ee'ol bank'n the 3'ladz'n'1'lass sat salutin' their salutations to the life of the 4 cops by rattlin' off the sound of thunder'drummz. The TrenchSweepersSweptTheFrontDoor'o'dee'ol bankK they did. 100 round drum stuff't'un'dah da' 1921 Annihilators. 40 shots rang out, no one counted the misses or makes. Only watched 4 cops that weren't kindred to this business of ours flop.

Red'eye't One has finally begun to become the Lad'o'Dee'Ol'Mad'ent.

The 5th wing of 4 with his 4 wingz o'dee'ol 5 enn'ee'uhh gramm'th'on with their Chicago typewriterz by marchin'on'n'th'err'da bank. They unloaded a total of 40 shots, every civilian dropped dead. The tellers and bank managers sat untouched, the B2 and 3'o'3z pelted every teller with 20 shots each, no one counted hits or misses. But the only ones left standing needed to be standing. So the A1 and I7 unleash't'uh drumm'solo'o'dee 40 shots and finished off the bank managers. No one stood in the bank except for the Peacock't Units, type Corvette, GunShipz'o'de'ol'Seaz'on'ea'eedz Generalz'Zunns'o'Gunnz'n'Nunnz. Of the LE James Joyce. The Loot'Tenent tooted quietly in the background of the scene, by lettin'n'er Wind G0. The ac of nature blew a slight rumple in the feather of the door, sirens could be heard. The 3 top notch't bodyguards of USS ZMSG immediately went into action, ZMSG the i7 utilized his which'n craftwerk'zkills with the bumm'n'bomm he had made, by waltzin'n'kind'of'a' 'urried'scurry. He placed the explosive and set a wick in. Bout 6 feet of string't danger. The A1, B2, and 3'o'3z were rattling off shots. 2 hidden behind the door, the 3'o'3 was outside behind a pillar that sat in front of the bank being robbed. No one knows how many cops actually died, but 5 patrol cars were crashed, 5 troop of patrol'n'th'uh'solid'ground soldiers'o'dee'ol'copp'erz were gunn'th'undah da' sunn. That's right. The ZMSG was blowin' his load on a bank in the queer'eye't canal in the middle of the scenario'z daylight. The 'gypt'lad'o'dee'ol'sea lit the wick, and utilized the sparks flowin' on through to the explosive chemicals to light his spliff he had prepared for the adrenaline rush of doing a job this big. He had only been smalltime in upstate, runnin'n'gunnin his way up into Maine and sometimes Toronto to drop off, pick up, clip'clap some dumb jack'or'jock'o'dee'ol peas. 

The konnected kutter stepped back about 7 paces, enough to hopefully not get blown away in the de'maze'n'o'dee ol safeway'th'roo 2da' moniez. A total of 3 drummz could be heard being thrown onto the ground, and 3 clicks could be heard as the gang'oh'dee'ol sea'o'dee'ol Jyphz'o'Jalopies jaunt'erd on with their Trench't'sweat'Sweeter'swoddlerz. The Tom'Sunnz were fuckin' oot'n'aboot on a ship afloat in da' queer'eye't canal.

The red'eye't one smiles underneath the blast of the safes door being blown into. Debris flies everywhere, a stray nut catches the Paddyz'Wickett'Sunn in the port'r'syde'o'dee ol chest. Nothin'uh 2bad or 2close to his inn'erd'chesticle. A spray of spliffsmoke could be seen leavin'n a hurry out of the nostrils of ZMSG. The slaughter of treez was on and by golly'garsh if this fuckin' Kang'o'dee'ol'Kong wasn't Diddlin'iss'Donk idk who woulda thonk'th'uh dissTrackk?

The 2 empty bags find their way inside the vault, 3'03z'uh covered the door, A1 behind her back. The B2'flew'wit'th'uh Weiner't'oh'dee'ol'sea and they clasped their take as fastly as they could, shovin'n guffawin'n'syde as they stuff't'n'er'stuff't their bags full of cold hard cash. No one was countin'. They were going to tax themselves and pay up'werdz'ly to their bosses, and hopefully the bosses o'dee'ol bosses got their cut of the hard'nt werk these lad'o'dee'ol'seas were doin' outside the purp'n'green jalopy. The Green'Cap't'in'Da'Black'bandanananana'dunnadunnadunna'th all over this scenario by helpin' the B2 zip his bag as they both started to shift their bodies back into the exit of this queer'eye't canal of lyfe. Port'r n'uh Star'berd syde o'dee'ol hips was swangin'n'uh'bangin'on through the bank. The 3'oh'3'z'deez'nutzz was pounding cops with metal sluggz of good'n'riddance Lass'oh'dee'Seas she'n'werez. The cop'terd whorez found themselves faceless on the floor, in the eyes of God. Shells were hittin'n bouncin' all over the front porch of the bank. Where the gang'o th'eevz found themselves runnin'n still gunnin' into the ol'purp'en'green jalopy'o'dee'ol seas. The jypt'of'gypt'seaz inside the queer'eye't canal that found itself within' the redeye't sonn. Reportin'uh to the Rorchester't Rorschach. The Dorchester't Door's'Slack't socks. The LT James Joice. The LE'o'dee'ol'Sea. 

The konn'n'kunnz'o'dee'ol'kannon found themselves emptying their back up drummz into the sonz'o'dee'ol coppaz as they drove off into the sun. They eventually pulled into a parking lot at a crossroads of thoroughfares. Where they threw the bag on top o'dee'ol trunk'o'dee'ol drunkKz. Open for anyone to put in their two cents, or take 100 large. Whatever they wanted to do with this scenari03zGoez.