September 3, 2008
Tank lent me her trademark, a 2-inch box end wrench named Elvis. I used it as the Holy Rod of Maintenance, wielding it as the High Priest of the Caustic Mass of the Bavarian Illuminati Motorcycle Club, a ritual with a 13-year tradition.
Elvis Rocks. Tank Rocks. I owe her. 'Nuff said.
Grim
September 20, 2006
Oh my Tank. From that first moment that I saw you dance at Spike's... And from that time when I was bartending and you walked in the door and our eyes met... I knew you were someone real. You're actual size, and I like that. I'll admit it: you're kinda like a superhero to me. I'm constantly amazed at who you are. You're mysterious, yet inviting. I feel totally comfortable around you, yet I have NO IDEA what's going on in that head of yours. I suppose you're the perfect enigma. You are a sweet little cupcake, baked by the devil.
November 3, 2005
The best Grandminion and Evil Overlord could hope for.