The Old Geezer Mac is so over come with sorrow on the recent demise of GT, that words fail to find their way thru his anatamy and out his orface opening for sounds, (crying)
Poor Old GT, where oh where has his spirit gone? Is he in the here after chasing those Kyle Clones, imbibing upon the wonders of ancient elixers, sitting at roadside cafe's ooggling the bouncing babba loos as they pass by with their tight skimpy angel outfits,,
OH WOE IS US, BOHOBOHOO (hysterical crying) what of my Last set of colostomy bags, who will I throw them at now,
What will transpire upon this most illustrious of cantinas without the Furry Feline of Menace, the trickster of words, the galloping gourmet of cartoon violence? The voracious neptune of sleazy comebacks.....
UGH..........
Mac slouchs at his table overcome with grief, drowning his sorrow with pitchers of brewskis and chili side dishes.. letting loose the salute of essance that GT so loved to be around
a sadden and remorseful Mac