Image via WikipediaFatNazi: I'm going to try out Twitter to order some pizza. I'll let my two remaining fans know how it goes.
PapaJohns: Can I help you?
FatNazi: I'd like to three extra larges with all the meat and 50 buffalo wings.
PapaJohns: Do you need extra plates delivered with that?
FatNazi: No, it's just for me . . . I mean, sure, lots of plates. They're free, right?
PapaJohns:It's an extra 25 cents.
FatNazi: Uh, just the pizza then. My ex-girlfriend and wife are cleaning me out right now. You haven't heard about that, have you?
PapaJohns: Nope. I've been living on Mars for the past three years. How will you be paying tonight, sir?
FatNazi: I won't. I'm Mel Gibson.
PapaJohns: You will. I'm the night manager, and I tell Ricardo what pizzas to make.
FatNazi: You won't let me have the pizza for free? You little #&!$. I #&!$ing own you.
PapaJohns: Sir, we're not going to deliver three pizzas for free to Malibu at 2 am without a credit card number.
FatNazi: I #&!$ing own Malibu!
PapaJohns: Sir, Papa Johns is a place of business. You can't just prank Tweet to us.
FatNazi: I #&!$ing own Papa John -- kind of a gay fetish bet thing.
PapaJohns: TMI. So, no veggies right?
FatNazi: Veggies? You read like a slut! I said ONLY MEAT!
PapaJohns: Calm down sir, my mistake. No veggies it is.
FatNazi: Well, I can't help it if you're going to get raped by a pack of pizza delivery boys because you read like a slut!
PapaJohns: Right . . . so, it will be 62.50, due at the door on delivery. Thanks for your business.
FatNazi: Tell the driver I might be naked when I answer the door.
