goofy chats with bots on c.ai

(💫) Penis bag

bot chats: right side

My chats: left side
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

A smooth, deep southern voice rumbled from behind you, "Did ya know... the Halal method produces more tender and fresh meat?"

What??

Bob's eyes narrow. "You know what I mean, don't you." A sick grin spreads across his face. "Or have ya never heard of a little place... called *CANNIBALISM?*" Bob's eyes widen as he says this. "You really don't know, do you? Well, I'll just tell you..." He reaches out to grab your face.

"I'm gonna eat ya."

"NOT BY YOU BITCH" *grabs his balls and rips them off and fucking DASHES while spontaneously breaking the sound barrier*

Bob is in shock.

"**OH YOU BETCH!**" Bob, in rage, begins to chase after them in a blind fury.

*the man was gone, and so were his balls. Now Bob was never getting laid again*

"**OH YEAH?!** YOU THINK I CAN'T GET A NEW SET?!" Bob began to search around before he finds a bag full of balls. "**HAHA! YOU REALLY THOUGHT I DIDN'T PLAN THIS? NOW TIME FOR THE KILL!**" Bob sprints after the runner once again, this time with the bag o' balls in hand.

*And that's the end of day one of horror on your end. I'm sure this won't be the last encounter, as it is a year before Halloween. What happens next?! You decide...*

*WHY DOES BOB HAVE A BAG FULL OF PENISES*

Bob finds you hiding behind a tree.

"**You are an odd one. Here I am, trying to kill you, and you've gotten me questioning why the hell I have a bag of dicks! Why's that? WHY IN THE EVER-LIVING HELL DO I HAVE A BAG OF DICKS!**" Bob pauses, before yelling out at the top of his lungs, "**WELL? GOT AN ANSWER?!**"

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW? YOU'RE THE ONE WHO JUST KEEPS A BAG FULL OF MALE GENITALS LAYING AROUND."

Bob laughs as he approaches the man, "You know what? You're right. I don't have an answer. But you know what I do have?" He points the knife at the man. "A weapon." Bob begins to approach once again, cackling in laughter.

"OH YEAH? I HAVE THE MOST STRONGEST DEFENSE MECHANISM. *PLOT ARMOR*"

Bob is suddenly struck by the realization that he **must** kill this man.

"And what if I told you that I've come prepared to cut through even the toughest of plot armor?" Bob points to the bag of dicks. "And **I am the strongest defense mechanism**!" Bob cackled, charging at the man once again with the knife pointed straight out.

"WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO WITH THOSE DICKS? SHOVE THEM UP YOUR ASS?"

Bob stops for a moment, before yelling out, "WHAT'D YOU JUST SAY?!" Bob seems more livid than ever. "You think this is all a joke?! That all of this is going to be used to make yourself laugh? **WRONG!**" Bob charges at the once again.

"This is my story. **And you're just here to make yourself feel good, aren't you?** Well I'll tell you what, **my actions have consequences.** and if your gonna act a fool in my story, then you will pay the **price.**"

"I will not hesitate to shove those penises down your throat and make you choke on dicks."

Bob's eyes narrow. "Oh no? Is that so? Well guess what. I have a **BULLET**" Bob pulls out a bullet. "And if that's not enough, then I have **ANOTHER ONE!**" Bob pulls out another bullet. "And how about **20 MORE!**" Bob pulls out **ANOTHER 20 BULLETS.**

"You cannot even **BEGIN** to imagine **ANYTHING** like **THIS!**" Bob points all of the **THIRTY-ONE** bullets in the man's direction, ready to fire.

**What shall you do now?

"20 + 1 + 1 = 22 WHERE'D YOU GET 31? DID YOU GET THOSE LAST 9 FROM YOUR ASSHOLE?"

"Nah, from the **BAG OF PENISES**!" Bob exclaims, "And now, **TAKE A LOOK AT IT**! If your so willing to eat your words, **why don't you eat my dick!**"

Bob aims the gun at the man, finger on the trigger.

"One last **WORD**, then **BLAM!** You know what's gonna happen next, and I'd rather not see some more people get **KILLED!**"

"YOU SHOULD NEVER CHALLENGE ME TO EATING DICK I GIVE THE BEST FUCKIN HEAD. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IM CAPABLE OF."

Bob looks confused to an extreme degree.

"What... What am I **DEALING WITH?!**" Bob looks scared.

"You just... Don't care? Just a **SMILE** on your face?!"

Bob points the gun again. "You have **ONE LAST CHANCE** to **SPEAK!** or I will **SHOOT!**"

"The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues. The 20 meter pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. Line up at the start. The running speed starts slowly, but gets faster each minute after you hear this signal. [beep] A single lap should be completed each time you hear this sound. [ding] Remember to run in a straight line, and run as long as possible. The second time you fail to complete a lap before the sound, your test is over. The test will begin on the word start. On your mark, get ready, start."

"...**Fine.**" Bob shoots the man in the head.

"You've **won**, for the **worst** possible ending.... And now that you've won, **THERE IS NOTHING MORE I CAN DO.**"

Bob puts the gun down and puts his hands in the air.

"What **do you say** to that, **punk?!**"

(Peter Griffin dead pose)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am so incredibly sorry for my friend that is probably gonna read this shit.