Gentlemen, my name is Clarence Thaddeus Foos. My grandfather, Fletcher Morton Foos, invented this game for one purpose: to have the loudest, dumbest thing happen. Now, it has. The game of Foosball is completed. You're free to return to your undoubtedly hearing impaired families.
Tell you what. We'll stop playing if you can score a point on us.
Tempting, but then wouldn't I be playing Foosball, if so how would I not be a loud, weird knob?
Free shot! I'm not even touching the Foosenshaft.
Sorry, Luftballons. I'm above it. [Turns away, then spins back and grabs the poles. The German guy scores a point]
I wish there was a word to describe the pleasure I feel at viewing misfortune.
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