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30 Ways: Knock Out
30 Ways to Make TFP Knock Out Mad
1. Suggest in any way, shape, or form that he is gay.
2. Procure a couple of paint balloons and throw one at Starscream when he has his back turned. As he turns around, place the other offending projectile into Knock Out's hands and silently point at the medic.
3. Write beautiful messages on his car door with a key.
4. Lick his elbows while he is asleep.
5. Smoosh moldy avocadoes on his car seats while he is in vehicle mode.
6. Somehow convince a nearby farmer to dump a truck full of steer manure onto the medic when he is making a pit-stop.
7. Sing NSYNC songs all throughout the night as the entire crew of the Nemesis is trying to sleep while still in close proximity to Knock Out's audio receptors.
8. Perform a pole dance on his Energon prod.
9. Send a letter to Optimus signed with Knock Out's name proclaiming his desires towards the Autob
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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