Cast (in order of appearance):
Loading screen appears.
Beginning screen appears.
Warning screen appears.
Foamy clears his throat.
Foamy: Attention all! Thank you for coming to the first meeting of the Foamy Card Cult. Our first order of business is to discuss the success of the Foamy Card Cult and clear up any issues that there might be. Cause you know, some of you people don't know what you're doing so if you GOT ANY PROBLEMS, tell me now.
Pillz-E: Oh my God, everything's going good on my part with the cards but one day I gots a paper cut so... so large that-that I had to go to hospital and then have my tonsils removed before.. and my appendix exploded and splattered my innards on the wall like a dead baby from Satan's crib.
Foamy: Yeah yeah, mmmhmm, that's great, yeah. You play with your baby crib thing, whatever. Satan, Satan.
Pillz-E cooes as he plays with his crib.
Foamy: But it seems there's a lack of international correspondence. Why is that, Begley?
Begley mumbles as he plays with the crib.
Begley: Right, erm... it seems that folks overseas don't have the proper stamps to do the whole self addressed stamped envelope thingy. And frankly they don't want to be running around looking for bleeding out stamps when they have free nudity in their soda commercials.
Foamy: Damn this human body and it's distractive qualities!
Pillz-E: Oh my God, I hate the naked people with the flabbiness of the naked ladies with those bouncy things that are fatty substances of flesh and nothing but... it all ends up dead flesh as if it was a slaughtered embryo on a bathroom floor with a cookie cutter smile and a fat... tooth. Some say it'd erm- have a side effect. Some say it's a side effect of the medication. AYIYIYIYIYI!
Begley: I'll say.
Foamy: We should ban all pill poppers from this cult.
Begley: But aren't most people on drugs these days? For no reason whatsoever.
Foamy: Eh, this is true... well, n- whatever. The last issue is our lack of outgoing mail. It seems requests for our cult cards are coming in faster than we can mail 'em out. Now let's check on the mail room, shall we?
Scene cuts to the mail room.
Germaine: Lick your own damn stamps, you psycho.
Foamy: You are the weakest link!
Ending screen appears.
Foamy: No pay raise for you, jackass.
Real World ReferencesEdit