Monday

another ☠ celebrity

Steve Irwin finally fucked with the wrong animal. A stingray, which never attacks unprovoked, was obviously made to feel a little threatened and stung the piss out of the crocodile hunter right in the chest, which killed him exactly like a heart attack would. I can see him wrestling it around in my mind's eye even now. Oh wow, he says through his special TV-friendly scuba mask, look at this beauty! He yanks it and turns it, and it zaps the shit out of him. He shakes, makes a face you don't ever want to see, much less make, and twists lifelessly away above the teeming great barrier reef.



Well, you finally did it, Steve. You got your ass killed. I'll never forget the special times we had together, you on an adventure, me on the couch watching you and eating potato chips, but not the fat free ones that make people shit their pants. And what about that time you went on that other adventure and I sat there watching you again? You might not remember me, but I sure remember you, man. It's sad you're gone because you seemed like the kind of dude I'd like to hang out with, but mostly it's sad because now I'll have to find something else to watch while I eat potato chips.

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