Jigglypuff

tanker train is stress free, better quality of life

*puff!*

*Jiggly!*

*Puff!*

Jiggly!

May their Ashes burn to Ashes!

༼ つ☆＾∀＾ ༽つ Atlanta Falcuns Wrest My Vigors༼ ༼ つ☆＾∀＾ ༽つ

When Can one reasonably Expect the proclamation to Sound... ?

Someone pinch me, is this real?

A long and storied soldier, a rest well earned but rest he'll not without a win tomorrow!

Your patronage emulsifies betwixt these two reports. Crackerjack !

A raptor strike aloft, quite vicious as I do recall. The poor bird's feet entangle with the gyro-copters blades?

Oddly familiar! This dance I recognize from the Dandridge estate ball, summer of '77. Perchance Arthur stole my moves... alas Rise Up !

At clock strick' 12 times three from now, when Houston's eye skews nigh sky high at mighty Corps afield. All eyes aloft, peer just above, to Coach Dan Quinn's Commands. For Us, For them; For We alone, the Final Say approachés That each and every Countryman turns gaze; To meditate and gauge the worth of We, of He and all His soldiers. To Coach Dan Quinn we gift our Guts, to Birds of prey, to feast, That he may animate our Corps, in resolute defense; Against the unfamiliar hosts, a whoop, a sudden shriek repels, "Arise! (Uprise)!" it calls, it Caws for Quinn to bring Salvation. The screech absolves, convicts alike, An instrument of He on High, of He Supreme, A mighty screech for Mighty Quinn, a screech to Purge our Bosoms. Yet Tyranny may acquiesce, abject Defeat may Wake at Once, its fragile slumber shattered. "The Dynasty" the unborn Fates whisk rotten spoilage through the currents; "Without Victories" The unrepentents clad, in blue and gold and black and white and Other derelicted Fashions... A screech again, a flash! Again the hordes hear naught, but We, the dirty birds catch sound. The call imports we Now divest our Bosoms! "Brethrenship!" We hear and we dispense, hold Falcon Kin in praise and Thought, That now, that They who may, who might, deliver us as birds in flight Uncaged to drop our curdled parcels, each for those who doubted! Belligerent the horde demands "To Whom!" "With Whom?" they wail; "For Us?" in bated breath "For Whom?". Puissant "Ju Hoo!" the Drafts shriek back, the devil brains now muzzle, At Helm our Coach Dan Quinn Precedes in bond unbound, in Brotherhood, we rise; Amongst his Cast our vessels Bleed. We rise For Victory.

If, this Sunday, our most valued player disports merely half his mastership, and if, in thrice a day's dispense, only partwise he exhibits the extent of his gifts, belovéd and most valued Matty Ice will make proud a Nation. Be it Mack or be it Garland. Uprise dirty birds!

FTFY

Here, here! To Mack; a Man of crackerjack Virtue!

*cough cough* Sam Baker *cough* Pardon me

Kyle Shanahan

Thrice Tazeréd; howbeit Frenzied... Hail stalwart Derrick Shelby!

Ye Gods! He on High hath Graced our Peoples ! Look alert ye Caroline catamounts ; Upon Phantasmic Prophecy hath Dan Quinn called, Against Dimitroff's Caterwauls . Rejoice, And welcome! The end of Sorrowed Seasons ! No longer smelt of casualty. Our Juggernaut arises . It's Slumber broken! Awake, Alert. Dear Pennsylvanian Matt hears Call, The fire Falcons Cry! To put Sleep deliriums of decimation. To sleep! We shall reverse the Nightmares of defeat; from Us unto Our foes! Our Commandant, Reveréd Quinn, Demands!

Cheers!