Dear Dylan,

 

While sending a letter may be fashioned you don't seem to understand traditional methods of communication. I've particularly enjoyed listening to you and Bill Ding call me out on a regular basis, although my enjoyment is found in watching the two of you struggle to form coherent sentences.

 

I get it. You lost and you want a chance at redemption. Well keep yapping away because it's not gonna happen. It's not gonna happen because if you haven't noticed I have my fucking hands full.

 

Excuse the language but how the hell don't you notice me dealing with our septic champion Tank. Physically how can you over look something so large with a shiny belt in the middle? Yet you've also overlooked the fact that Daryl Bradley is a douche who continues to do douche things. Add in the masked assholes who have an unhealthy obsession with me and a drunk best friend, I just don't have time have time to deal with you.

 

So let's make this fair. I don't have a fucking moment to spare on you. But you're annoying the fuck out of me so I challenge you to deal with my friends Loki and Axton Bravo before you even look sideways at me again.

 

Sincerely,

 

An annoyed B-17

Septic Tank!

 

I'm wearing that shirt on the next Riot, I suggest all Ragnarok do the same.

 

 

Fucking LOVE IT

How the hell I become friends with Rag?

How the hell I become friends with Rag?

 

You didn't, Nathan's being silly

You didn't, Nathan's being silly

 

So....you don't like me?

So....you don't like me?

 

I'm just not wearing that damn t-shirt, sleeveless open vests with nothing underneath are life b

I'm just not wearing that damn t-shirt, sleeveless open vests with nothing underneath are life b

 

 

Yeah, if you're up for "Best Supporting Actor in a Soft Core Film"

Tank: Oh poor, poor B-17. Sorry about that, but you'll never reach me. You'll never see the top of the mountain. You'll forever be average. Sorry to break the news to ya.

Oh, really?