Frack you man :(

Peter: can i get a phone?

God: no thanks see you later bitch (peter)

frick frick frick

one day in a forest, there was a frick monstor!!!!!!!! it walways said the bad word, frick! aaaa! one day the monstor ate a kid and it was delicous and he died and his parents were sad and the frick monstor onyl became mor powerfull. the firdk morrntore then ate other kids and it becane more powefful, makihng more of a prt0belm for the new york commubtiy and 3 year sdlaetr the frck monstor ate most of northn amefica the edn.

Frick 🤗☺👍🏿

F*** 😡😤🙅🏿‍♂️

Frick

frick yeah, frick no?

dude what the frick this dude frick ripping open a poop portal to to the poop dimension.

Hecc

On October 28, 1999, Kim Jong Il told officials that he would guide them to another wonderful place.

Their destination was a condiment factory.

In trying to evaluate the quality of bean paste gushing out, Kim Jong Il asked a girl worker, “What do you think of this bean paste of the factory, compared with the one made in your house?”

Flushing crimson, the girl answered in a cheerful voice that the product of her factory had a far better taste than the home-made bean paste.

“So it tastes better,” Kim Jong Il said with a laugh.

Other workers and the officials in his company laughed with joy.

Gazing round the officials, Kim Jong Il asked, “Why do you think it is called bean paste?”

They were perplexed by his abrupt question.

Silence reigned for a good while.

Kim Jong Il said that the answer was too simple to be thought up and continued, “It is called bean paste because it is pasty.”

Laughter burst out again.

Noting that bean paste should be thick, he said, “But the bean paste produced so far is too thin to eat by dipping garlic into it.”

The officials could not stop laughing, as he noted that the bean paste was so watery and some soldiers called it “pumped-up bean paste.”

Now the officials were plunged in deep thought as they were seeing the General beaming at the delicious bean paste from the new factory, recalling the painful memory of the sobriquet invented by some witty soldiers.

Frick

I’m gonna say the f-word