Ansammlung kleiner Eimer - Fan&Friends of Explicit-Content

My name is Lt. BustyBoris and I'm putting together a special team, and I need me eight soldiers. Eight Demo-hating soldiers. Now, y'all might've heard rumors about the armada happening soon. Well, we'll be leaving a little earlier. We're gonna be dropped into Badlands, dressed as civilians. And once we're in enemy territory, as a bushwhackin' guerrilla army, we're gonna be doin' one thing and one thing only... killin' Demomen. Now, I don't know about y'all, but I sure as hell didn't come down from the goddamn Viaduct Mountains, cross five thousand miles of water, fight my way through half of Goldrush and jump out of a fuckin' air-o-plane to teach the Demomen lessons in humanity. Demomen ain't got no humanity. They're the foot soldiers of a Medic-hatin', mass murderin' maniac and they need to be dee-stroyed. That's why any and every every son of a bitch we find wearin' a Demoman's eyepatch, they're gonna die. Now, I'm the direct descendant of the mountain man Jim Bridger. That means I got a little Injun in me. And our battle plan will be that of an Apache resistance. We will be cruel to the Demomen, and through our cruelty they will know who we are. And they will find the evidence of our cruelty in the disemboweled, dismembered, and disfigured bodies of their brothers we leave behind us. And the Demomen won't not be able to help themselves but to imagine the cruelty their brothers endured at our hands, and our boot heels, and the point of our crit rockets. And the Demomen will be sickened by us, and the Demomen will talk about us, and the Demomen will fear us. And when the Demoman closes their eyes at night and they're tortured by their subconscious for the evil they have done, it will be with thoughts of us they are tortured with.