What the alas didst thee just loving sayeth about me, thee dram wench? i’ll has't thee knoweth i graduat'd top of mine own class in the navy seals, and i’ve been involv'd in num'rous secret raids on al-quaeda, and i has't ov'r 300 confirm'd kills. I am did train in g'rilla warfare and i’m the top snip'r in the entire us cap-a-pe f'rces. Thou art nothing to me but just anoth'r targeteth. I shall wipeth thee the alas out with precision the likes of which hast nev'r been seen bef're on this earth, marketh mine own loving w'rds. Thee bethink thee can receiveth hence with declaring yond the horror to me ov'r the int'rnet? bethink again, alas'r. As we speaketh i am contacting mine own secret netw'rk of spies across the usa and thy ip is being trac'd even but now so thee bett'r prepareth f'r the st'rm, maggot. The st'rm yond wipes out the pathetic dram thing thee calleth thy life. You’re loving dead, peat. I can beest anywh're, anytime, and i can killeth thee in ov'r seven hundr'd ways, and that’s just with mine own bareth hands. Not only am i extensively did train in unarm'd combat, but i has't access to the entire arsenal of the unit'd states marine c'rps and i shall useth t to its full extent to wipeth thy mis'rable rampallian off the visage of the continent, thee dram the horror. If 't be true only thee couldst has't known what unholy retribution thy dram “clev'r” comment wast about to bringeth down upon thee, haply thee wouldst has't did hold thy loving tongue. But thee couldn’t, thee didn’t, and anon you’re paying the price, thee goddamn clotpole. I shall the horror fury all ov'r thee and thee shall drowneth in t. You’re loving dead, kiddo
