Randall prepared all of his oil lube, sweet chassis, and tailpipe pickup lines in case there were any hot chicks at the paintball course.
Paka: Wait a minute. 'Not liable for injury, death or involuntary penile amputation.' ?? Anyone got a cup I can borrow?
Paka looked as hardcore as a guy with a bright orange condom on his gun could look.
His ghosts finally caught up with him.
Steve had everything he needed: extra paintballs, pain medication, water, and the 20lbs of hashish he was the mule for later in the day.
Mike: ..and this is the trigger. Pull this and stuff comes out of the barrel very very fast.
Steve: Hehe, stuff.
Much to the dismay of the men behind the wood barrier, they hadn't paid extra for the 'shoot an unarmed woman' package.
Camo infused with red - for blending into the urban jungle. Or, you know, the circus.
Dead to the paintballing world, Walter took the walk of shame confident that the pornography that awaited him in his backpack would heal all wounds.
Steve explained to the group how, with a red ribbon and some creative knots, one could transform a simple weapon into a fashion accessory.
John's makeout sessions with the Tang spokeswoman were legendary.
After being shot in the face, Paka was reticent to remove his mask after the game was over. An appeal to his Samoan side, food, was the only solution.
Randall displays his knee juice.
Morgan: I am a banana.
Paka: Does anyone else feel a slight sting in their upper thigh?
