'

Boiskov: CHRIST OUR LORD WAS THREE HUNDRED SIXTY FIVE DAYS OLD THIS DAY
Basher Lemming: You son of a bitch.
Boiskov: One million e-dollars, please.
Basher Lemming:
 
Boiskov: Much obliged.
Basher Lemming: >:o
Basher Lemming: >:o>:o
Basher Lemming: >:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o>:o
Boiskov: :-\
Basher Lemming:  >:o
Boiskov: It's as if the last year never happened. Exactly three hundred sixty five days ago, we both sat at our computers, and we still do. We knew how old Christ our Lord was, and we still do. What has changed? Nothing has changed. We have stepped out of the wardrobe, and the professor is knocking on the door, and no one will believe the things which we have seen and done.
Basher Lemming: Remember that time Emily killed B and he came back to life 10 minutes later?
Boiskov: No; to be honest with you, all I remember is Nick saying "TAH-KISH DELIGHTS!!!" over and over.
Basher Lemming: Fireball made an adorable faun, though.

The End
Compiled by Jon
jonbois@gmail.com
Conversations between
Jon (AIM: Boiskov)
Bill (AIM: Basher Lemming)

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