“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,” roared Lion-O (off of The Thundercats). “I’m sick of you lot, I’m going to my room.”
“Blimey,” sighed Panthro. “He’s in a right mood, isn’t he? He’s got such a bag on that I could literally see the Eye of Thundera weeping in frustration.” The other Thundercats generally agreed with Panthro’s sentiment, but wish he hadn’t had to exaggerate again. The Eye of Thundera was a magical artefact lodged into the hilt of a sword. Not only could it not weep, but there’s no way that it could understand the concept of frustration.
“Yeah, you’re bob on,” replied Cheetara. “He may be the Lord of the Thundercats, but he’s been acting like a right bell end recently.” Tygra nodded his agreement and tried not to let her see that he was looking down her top. He loved Cheetara’s furry boobs and couldn’t keep his eyes off them. Oh, how he longed for his hands to join his eyes on those beautiful bouncy bristols.
“Snarf,” said Snarf. “Cut Lion-O some slack, for Christ’s sake. He’s got a lot on his plate at the moment, so it’s no wonder he’s a bit grumpy.”
“Oh, you’re such a sycophantic little shit,” retorted Panthro. “His attitude stinks, so don’t you go making excuses for him.” As if to emphasise his point, the front door slammed shut. It appeared as though Lion-O had been listening in to their conversation from the door and hadn’t liked what he had heard.
“Typical,” harrumphed Tygra. “I hope Mumm-Ra eats the little prick.”
On this point, the Thundercats were in total agreement.