StickMan Bob you poor...
Don't go on AIM, or the viruses shall tour...
your cpu is at stake my friend...
if you allow, you hd's end...
FEAR THE VIRUSES!
(I like swords)
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StickMan Bob you poor...
Don't go on AIM, or the viruses shall tour...
your cpu is at stake my friend...
if you allow, you hd's end...
FEAR THE VIRUSES!
(I like swords)
Can't go on aim,
too many PC's used.
Would say more,
but the list is huge.:(
Bob's CPU makes a stand,
With a very big stick at hand
The stick broke,
Flew into bob's throught,
That made him Choke :sick:
BOB is now dead and cremented,
A will to write he meant(-ted:blah: )
Now all of things
- the pea -
belong the author,
- ME -
who decicevly put the pea,
up bob's nose...
It got stuck,
Like the hockey puck,
Up his butt. :laughing:
But BOB was sent into the computer,
Millions of E-Mails, he would deliver,
But upon his rounds, he met a file,
that was a virus, his connection stopped dial(ing)
So Bob was trapped in a strange world with a virus at his uter(don't ask)
Bob found out he was a cow,
But he didn't know how,
He drank his white water,
When he thought of his father.
His father was tall,
very storng,
They said
he knew no wrong.
He had a Gun for arm
and an arm for a leg...
his name was peg leg meg...