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Fuck Those Damn Walter E. Smithe Brothers Hardcore

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June 8th, 2005

11:40 pm


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April 23rd, 2005

01:32 am - Great
I just saw these before going to bed
now i am for sure going to have nightmares


and the commercial that everybody hates so much but is afraid to tell the brothers it sucks


i am going to write to apple and u2 and ask if they are affiliated with this crap.  Hopefully this can get the ball rolling on a nice fat lawsuit.
Blah stupid copyright parody bullshit

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April 13th, 2005

11:42 pm
Walter E. Smithe, we shit it, you buy it!

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April 12th, 2005

04:12 pm - Those Demented Smithe Bros.
If the deranged Smithe threesome could take some time off from chasing bystanders with forklifts and trolling the city's various Starbucks locations for young impressionable commercial stars perhaps they would have some spare minutes to realize that my beloved Melikey is the ultimate in asskissing, facade spinning, and furniture knowing... therefore the key salesperson for an inappropirately ambitious trio of bastards who apparently love furniture whose upholstery is made from leftover floral print vests from 1992. Fuck that shit. Also... memo to brothers: Julia Roberts is NOT a repeat customer of Walter E. Smithe. Defamation suit, baby, that's all I gotta say.

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03:46 pm
It was a casual friday at the home office of walter e. smithe.  I was granted an extra long lunch break inwhich I treated myself to a madarian chicken salad and extra large frostie from the wendy's across the street.  After my fast food meal it hit me, that sense of afternoon sleepiness.  I was so tired and still had 45 minutes left on my lunch break. 
I figured since I was working at such a large emporioum of furniture, that maybe the warehouse could offer some rest and comfort for my tired feet and full belly.  I snuck into the warehouse.  Strangely it was quiet.  All the mexican upholesters and furniture repairers must have been off to lunch as well.  I walked through the giant warehouse browsing through the tackily collaged sofas that people had returned.  Some of it wasn't too hideous, and others, yeah it was bad.  Finally I saw what I was looking for.  Someone had recently purchased a king size Tuscan style bed from Drexel Heritage inspired by author Frances Mayes.  During the shipping process it must have gotten knocked aroud a little because there were scratches deep in the wood that were not just from distressing.  Not like I really would care.  Hell it was a king size bed finished off with a  Drexel heritage pillow top mattress.  I brushed some of the shipping dust off the plastic sealed mattress and jumped up on it.  I could really feel the rich benefits of the luxurious mattress supporting my weight.  It didn't take that long for me to fall into a deep deep coma induced nap. 

I don't know how long I slept, it was very deep, but abruptly I was awoken by violent shaking.  I felt like I couldn't breath, somebody was trying to choke me.  My slits for eyes opened all the way.  I could make out a grey speckled mustache and could feel the wool of somebodys suit cuffs scratching my tender flesh.  I realized I wasn't dreaming but it was good ol' wally smithe III trying to kill me.  Using all my force, I kicked him the stomach and scrambled off the bed.  I almost fell off because that particular bed is so high off the ground.  Making a mad dash through the warehouse, the sound of the lights switching off could be heard.  Immediately the emergency lights went out.  In a panic I hid underneath some cardboard boxes.  -Beep Beep Beep- was the next sound I heard.  It was all three brothers riding around on 3 fork lifts.  They were speeding my way.  Seconds before they piledrived into the stack of boxes I was hiding behind I crawled/around out.  The forklifts collided into each other and sent the 3 brothers flying.  This gave me some time to run to warehouse doors.  I was pounding and screaming hoping that someone on the otherside might hear me.  They had locked the doors and I couldn't get out.  They were closing in on mine.  I could hear their heavy breathing and smell the scent of a freshly consumed mustard and onion of tim smithes lips.  What to do, give up?  I had gotten this far, nothing was going to stop me now.  I grabbed the sofa seat of a nearby oxford.bannister sectional by keycity (1105) and whacked them all across the face, 6th grade pillow fight style.  The weight of the grade 24 upholestry knocked the wind of them.  I rushed over to Mark Smithe who was definitely unconscious and poked through his suit pocket to find the keycard that I dearly needed.  I swiped it against the electromagnetic thingie and kissed the ground of the parking lot when I got out. 

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