Meep.

I'm almost afraid to say anything to you. I mean, come on! You fall to pieces at the slightest remark. And literally, to pieces. I've seen your head fly off at the assertion that the person sitting next to you was having a nice sandwich. And once you're off, it's unlikely you're going to be complete again anytime soon; despite all your experience in the matter, it seems to take you a while to figure out Peg A goes into Slot B. Though to your credit you do seem to figure out how to get a peg in a hole, even if it's some one else's peg and someone else's hole. You've got joints the consistency of glass. You're like a piece of furniture from Ikea: impossible to put together, easily falling to pieces, missing a few parts (namely, even half a brain), and the only way I'd let you into my home is over my cold, dead body.

Uh oh, not again!

Yes, again. Why do I even have to insult you? You were dumb enough to confuse "insults" for "strapless size six dresses" once, and now by coming back a second time you've only proven you're so thick you can't tell that this is something undesirable. There's no pink, there are no frills, and cartoon males don't want to kiss you based on how hot you look wearing my opinion; an object that, if it were a garment as you so desired, would be so tattered, frayed, and trodden upon it'd look like a furnace made out of papier-mâché. Now I'm going to wrap this insult up so you and whatever boyfriend is dragging you around today can go buy another dress.

And by the way, girl, your fashion sense is played-out and your weave is so nappy wayward tree branches be tryin' to snatch it off. *snap* *snap*

fiiiiiine

Look at you. You're nature's joke. Insulting you would be like insulting a rock. You have the same work ethic and the same ability to hold up a conversation, anyway. Though at least some people catch a breeze or a tide and try to make something of their lives and go places; the only thing you ever try to do is nothing. And I've never seen anyone try harder at being useless. Of all the people who try to eat me on a daily basis, I think you're the only one I've actually pitied. Not because I felt bad about causing you blunt trauma, oh no! I took pride, even relish, in that. It's because you're so bad you actually make the likes of Jasu look good. Relatively, of course; that's like saying the bubonic plague makes rickets and scurvy seem like nice guys.

I am new here...but....
let me have it GOOD or YOU will be going FACE FIRST into the swamp!

You give me a bit of a quandary, here. Either I do as I'm told and tell you exactly how I feel, or as equally appealing, phone it in and be met with the swamp that I'm sure has a much more charming aesthetic- not to mention better manners- than you. And being new makes no difference! I hate everyone equally, never fear. Though I do have to say, being a fan of your videos (OK, not so much a "fan" as much as someone who needed something to make wisdom tooth removal pain seem like the lesser of two evils), that while the camera adds ten pounds, it must also take off twenty IQ points. Never have I seen such bumbling, such folly, and such outright stupidity. And I pretend to do all that for a living! If several years of film making haven't taught you how to eat a pie, you're beyond help. Still, I have to give credit where credit is due: you're an instrumental example in my arguments on the topic of avian superiority to mammals. So keep on being you! It makes us all feel much better about ourselves.

Oh, look. The horse is back. A race of animals so dignified that your entire species' significance has been reduced to a group of miniature rainbow-colored equines that have a society revolving around the symbols on their butts. It makes much more sense that's where the cultural pivot would be located, however- it's the part of your body you always seem to be thinking with. You're sluggish and gluttonous, and the villains you "fight" don't even have to do anything anymore since the damage you cause leaves the city gripped in enough fear to last several millennium. Go snack on a carrot and take a breather. The city needs to rebuild itself, since there's nearly nothing left for you to topple over. But I'm sure in your god-forsaken perseverance you'll find something to screw up in the meanwhile.

Pff, what kind of loser asks for compliments anyway? Bring the pain.

The only pain being "brought" is that which I experience when I look at a face that has more folds than a paper swan- namely, yours. It's quite obvious from your "physique" that the only thing you ever run is your mouth, and the only thing you exercise is my patience. You're so fat, scientists have been pondering that there might be a new state of matter to be found in the sheer unimaginable density you've obtained. I'm glad you attached a flagon of booze to your request, because it not only enforces my belief you can't go two seconds without sustenance, but also because the only way I can find myself able to deal with you is intoxicated. Now roll yourself all the way home, you not-so-little piggy.

You call those insults? I call those compliments. Thanks <3

Let's do this thing!

Why are you so enthusiastic? And for that matter, who the heck are you? I know about as much about Sym as I pretend to know about everyone else: nothing. I can easily discern that you're not very bright for wanting to have your self esteem rocked harder than a Metallica fan in a landslide, though when compared to me everyone's at about that level of intelligence. I'm not sure if you're actually a reptile or just need a good dose of lotion, though I'm willing to assume in your blunders that both remain true. For a "nemesis" you prove exceptionally easy prey. Might be a good idea to stop right now, since you're embarrassing yourself to a degree at which my services are no longer required.

Yo mama

Clap, clap, clap! A round of applause for the winner! Look at me, my will is shattered and my confidence is destroyed. I haven't heard such a potent mix of brevity and ingeniousness since the original Dean Martin roasts!

Look here, you walking pile of chum. I don't know which of your personalities I'm addressing, though since you slip them on and off in an oddly and disgustingly accurate rendition of a lizard shedding its skin, I get the feeling I can speak to all of them at once and save myself time. Each one makes me physically sick, and what's worse, they're all an absolute drag to be around. And I chose that word quite deliberately, in case you were wondering, and no irony slips through that sifter you call a memory. If you can hear me from under all those layers of latex, get yourself some counseling and try to make your closet look less like the trophy cabinet of a deranged serial killer. For all our sakes.