Remember me? You gave me cancer and made me fat on top of it. Not cool. Anywho… I was thinking…There’s a way you can make it up to me.
Here’s the thing: I’ve been doing Taylor Lautner’s ab workout for three weeks. You’re omniscient or whatever so it probably comes as no surprise to you that I still don’t have his abs. I need a favor.
Can you kill Taylor Lautner?
Look, principal photography on Twilight is over, and he’s not going to make another movie. At least not one that doesn’t take place in a bathroom and can be streamed on the internet for a $9.99/month subscription to his website. Also, there’s good chance he could die anyway at the premiere of the final Twilight movie when all of the fat goth girls rush the red carpet and stab home wrecking Kristen Stewart with a bedazzled wooden stake, crushing poor Taylor in the process. So, the way I figure it is, you’d actually be saving him from a very violent death.
Here’s the thing. Once he’s dead I need you donate his body to science. And when I say science, I mean me. I need those abs. I know he’s like a 5’2 Gremlin or whatever, but I still think they’d work with my body type.
P.S.- When I went to the doctor today the scale weighed me three pounds heavier than I am. When I told the nurse she laughed at me. Can you hit her with a bus please?