Ah, the Gam3r girl. In some corners of the world thought to be a myth of such stature as the easter bunny and the Zimbabwe wombat castrator.
However, here in the good ol' US of A we know, especially in our quaint, headshot filled, community of cohorts, that she does in fact exist. The thing about Gamer girls you can always count on is that she will always be instantly accepted into any online society despite the potential encumbrance of her usual distasteful attitude brought on by constant harrassment of all varieties from every male that encounters her online. Luckily for us our dear Reap3r does not have such an aforementioned attitude, but be wary nonetheless.
She knows as any girl, especially a Gam3r girl, that she will be inundated with not only all forms of smart-assery to the fullest extent but with the outreaching arms of her online pursuants desperately trying to be united with the ultimate dream of any gamer guy. And she will use this ultimately, and most unfortunately, to one day conesentually meet up with you...and eat your heart with a rusty spoon.
Yes, I said eat your fucking heart, with a rusty spoon at that. I warn you here and now my brethren, I have come in close contact with these Gam3r girls and I have the scar on my chest to prove it. They are ruthless and cruel little tazmanian devils on crack in sheeps clothing.
All that being said I must express my sincerest apologies to you Issy. I know your dark lord requires you fulfill a quota of gamer hearts, strained from screaming at a computer monitor which ensures sumptuous and tender heart meats. But I cannot go by any longer and watch as you slowly but surely work your way into each and every one of our chest cavities.
-Phoenix
ps. Call me, lawlz
321-750-1059
