We don't eat biscuits. We don't grow boxes of wine.
In the year of your lord, Nineteen Hundred and Thirty-six there was an epic battle fought between two of the greatest warriors in the story of life; Lucifier and Robert Leroy Johnson. Unsheathing their axes and throwing fiery flames from their fingertips, they struck a bargain. Johnson's soul for an ungodly amount of talent and a 15 and a half inch penis.
Or so they would have you believe....
If you listen to the music found on scrolls carved by the flames in hell, the songs paint a much more sinister picture. These are the songs of ButtDagger...
It seems that The Devil asked a much higher price than just Johnson's soul. He asked for his anus as well. As nine months came and passed, the demon seed of the Devil and Johnson man-banging sprang forth as the beast twins Captain Douche and D.B. McGee. As they sprung forth from Johnson's taintal region, they rend him in twain, for they were born with their musical weapon in hand. Having killed their birth mother, they raized the town and moved on, gathering wayward musicians along the way, and creating the little known group ButtDagger.
This is their legacy.
a fuck off I dare you not to
