Close Encounters of the Steve-o Kind

Recent random murmurrings of Steve-o, the roommate. His song in italics:


AH-AHHHHH-AH! Atreyu! Puff Dragon!
AH-AHHHHH-AH! Bumbafarian!

I am Lionel, King of the Thundercats!
THUNDER THUNDER THUNDER THUNDER CATS!


Keep slapping Dracula. A slappy Dracula is a happy Dracula.


I'm Stockwell Day. I don't like homos or black people. Do you want to punch me in the nutsack? I'm not going to answer your question. I'm Stockwell Day. I won't tell you whether our security is adequate. I'll tell you how it's better than it was before. We have a tenth of the population they do, so we only have to do what's in the interest of our sovereignty. Are you going to punch me in the nutsack now?


Itth a shmall world after all
Itth a shmall world after all
Itth a shmall shmall world.


Steve's been waiting all day for a barbecue
Barbecue
Experience
Steve's barbecue experience
Steve
Experience
Barbecue...


Is Granny spry?


Rosemary Burps forever
She only burps after rosemary
Rosemary bur-urps forever


What's that leaking on the floor? Could it be? Oyster juice!
Oh Oyster juice
Leaking on the floor
Don't worry, it's just oyster juice. It's good for you. It's good for your health. It makes you fertile. Like Murtle.
Oh, fertile Murtle...


When you wish upon a star,
Catching moonbeams in a jar,
Doesn't matter where you are,
Out in space or here on Mars.
.

.

The preceding sentiments are endorsed by Steve-o, fertile martian oysters, your strange uncle that nobody talks about and by nobody else.