Sunday morning, the way your dog experiences it. In this case, the dog's name is Hector. He finds his owner Mike passed out on the floor, the floor being covered with vomit. This confuses Hector because his master's vomit looks like Doggy Chow.
Dancing Microbe, a watermellon, a piece of chicken, a nuclear bomb, an arrow pointing down, the Titanic, a turd and a mentally challenged sun. Life is good.
This is what you get when two mentally instabile individuals are set loose on da intarwebz. We create these images that come to us in our dreams and in our psychotic episodes, we do this for retards, because we understand retards. We like retards. We might even be retards (no, we're not really, though, in a parallel universe there might be retarded versions of us).
We like puppies.
We have been in existence since before the Big Bang. The Big Bang didn't make any sound. It wasn't loud, but it sure was big.
Beelz is an immortal being from the 13th dimension. He loves eating animals, especially when they're tasty.
Ps2K is 18 feet tall and weighs as much as the sun. He likes dancing in the moonlight while sacrificing goats.