What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little f2p? I’ll have you know I've won over 500 payload maps, and I’ve been involved in numerous Highlanders, and I have over 50 confirmed Genuine First Place Highlander Tournament medals. I am trained in advanced Scout mindgames and I am credit to team. You are nothing to me but just another Ghastly Gibus-toting f2p. I will wipe you the fuck out with Strange Festive Scattergun precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this game, mark my fucking Genuine First Place Highlander Tournament medals. You think you can get away with typing that shit to me over the chatbox? Think again, f2p fucker. As we type I am contacting my secret network of BLU Spies across the pl_waste and you are being keylogged right now so you better prepare for the hacking, you Pyrovision Goggle-toting bitch. The hacking that wipes out the pathetic untradeable items you call a backpack. You’re fucking Level 9001 Vintage Ban Hammered, f2p. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my Level 42 Strange Festive Holy Mackerel. Not only am I extensively trained in advanced Scout mindgames, but I have access to the entire arsenal of Valve quality weaponry and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your f2p ass off the face of the game, you little noob. If only you could have known what premium account retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking fingers. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price you wouldn't be able to trade for anyways, you goddamn f2p. I will shit Fish Kills all over you and you will be humiliated in it. You’re fucking dead, noob.What in Davy Jones' locker did ye just bark at me, ye scurvy bilgerat? I'll have ye know I be the meanest cutthroat on the seven seas, and I've led numerous raids on fishing villages, and flim flammed over 300 wenches. I be trained in hit-and-run pillaging and be the deadliest with a pistol of all the captains on the high seas. Ye be nothing to me but another source o' swag. I'll have yer guts for garters and keel haul ye like never been done before, hear me true.
You think ye can hide behind your newfangled computing device? Think twice on that, scallywag. As we parley I be contacting my secret network o' pirates across the sea and yer port is being tracked right now so ye better prepare for the typhoon, weevil. The kind o' monsoon that'll wipe ye off the map. You're sharkbait, fool. I can sail anywhere, in any waters, and can kill ye in o'er seven hundred ways, and that be just with me hook and fist.
Not only do I be top o' the line with a cutlass, but I have an entire pirate fleet at my beck and call and I'll damned sure use it all to wipe yer arse off o' the world, ye dog. If only ye had had the foresight to know what devilish wrath your jibe was about to incur, ye might have belayed the comment. But ye couldn't, ye didn't, and now ye'll pay the ultimate toll, you buffoon. I'll shit fury all over ye and ye'll drown in the depths o' it. You're fish food now, lad.