What sort of Dead Nazi are you?

Take the What sort of Dead Nazi are you? quiz.

One word: Shoes.

1 pair regulation black boots, SIR. Yes, yes. I own a pair of jackboots. Are you happy now? Yep. I have some. They cover my feet. Sneakers, sandals, dress shoes. Er, and boots, ja... why? I only wear socks. I'm a rebel. Oh I have about forty, fifty pairs of shoes. I love shoes! Shoes of all kinds! Yaay shoes! People wear something other than boots? I DON'T OWN ANY GODDAMN BOOTS! Why can't you leave me alone? Do the words 'barefoot and pregnant' mean anything to you? whatever's, like, trendy. Birkenstocks. And my boots. I am a penitent and will never wear shoes again as part of my sacred vow.

What're you drinking?

Jagermiester. Jagermeister and Rumpleminze, single shot. Stirred. Jagermeister, Rumpleminze and Goldschlager. Layered Shot. Rumpleminze and Henrseys syrup, on your knees. Oral Pleasure, baby. Brandy. And I will have a cigar, thanks. Fine pre-war bordeaux. Tap water. St. Pauli Girl. Martinis. Water and pure grain alchohol. diet coke.

Whose fault is it?

Mine. Even if I didn't do anything. It's just... easier to take the blame. The wiring. It's a mechanical error, not My Fault! No one is to blame, man. It's just the way life is. Far be it from me to presume that the commands I recieved were in error. It is not my place to question. Unchecked ambition and/or bad karma. That bitch! (insert minority group of your choice) Yours. The Man. Hitler's. Mine. And what /exactly/ do you plan to do about it? Don't blame me, I voted for the other guy.

What do you do?

Wargame. A lot. And write fanfiction. Brood. A lot. And go to holocaust museums just... because. Work at McDonalds to feed my 19 chilluns. Oh, occasionally I go to singles night down at the Temple, though mostly I just try to tune it out when bubee goes on (again! Oy Well... I work retail, I'm a reenactor. And I have my own webdomain. And... wait, what /exactly/ makes you think I'm a lesbian!? Brood, Reenact, And Wargame. You know, to get it right this time. You see, if we hadn't gone to Russia... or Africa... Or... Hide. I have a very important position, and there are certain skeletons that are best kept deep, deep, deeep in the closet... Go about my happy life, secure in my own moral superiority. And laugh at you. A lot. I'm in grad school. Fucking student loans... go to skinhead rallies and beat up jews and arabs! Oi! White Power! Oh, lots of things! Wait and see!

After a few drinks, you're most likely to...

have been slipped a shirley colada, and be brutally taken by a large group of panting skinheads. slip a shirley colada to the underage crack-whore sitting next to me, in order to gang-bang her with about 10 of my closest fell Go on a vehement tirade about EXACTLY what went wrong in africa. I might grudgingly admit that Patton had skill, but not until I fall asleep. Hit on that rougish young man sitting next to me, Never mind that I'm old enough to be his *hic* father... then pout when he's b *looks horrified* I don't drink! dance a hora. have a few more. Burst into a vehement rendition of the Horst Wessel song, then quiet quickly when I think someone might be looking. Reminisce about the 'good old days,' and stare at pretty girls. Cry. Uncontrollably. Brag even louder about the awesomeness that is me, then pick a fight with a bunch of skinheads who seem to be molesting an under

Pick a word. Any word.

Honor. Fatherland. Justice. Victory. Help! Purity. Freedom. L'Chiam. Loyalty. Krieg. Nobility. Boots.

one word for you: Russia.

Commie bastards! No, no... not AGAIN!!!! *beats head against table* Okay, maybe that wasn't the brightest idea. Next time, my pretty... How many times will I have to tell you /not/ to get into a Land War in Asia!? *shudders* I don't want to talk about it. So what's the big deal anyway? Tovarich! Dos Vedanya! *laughs uncontrollably, with fingerpointing* suckers! Last textbook I ever saw was written in 1942... I like borcht. How about... Paris!? I laugh in the face of Russia!

It seems as if someone has forgotten their briefcase right next to your chair! How curious... what ever will you do?

Squeal like a girl and RUN!!!!!!!!!!!!! Flinch involuntarily, and have no idea why. Valiantly tackle it and toss it out the nearest window. Feel very vindicated when the explosion goes off somewhere else, protect Oh dear! Pick it up and run after the person who left it, like a good samartarian would. Ignore it. Or try to, anyway. There isn't /really/ a bomb in there, after all... that's just my imagination... I'm not in a cold Open it, and take out any money, valubles, important documents, etc. Leave any pretty colored wires where they are. Stare at it remorsefully. Great, just great. If that's what I think it is, now they're not going to allow farking /briefcases/ i Ignore it. I am invincible, and shall not be defeated by little things like ominous briefcases! Huh? What briefcase? I was too busy moping to notice. Notice the label. Huh. /Imitation/ Versace. How very tacky. That's probably not even real leather... Move off, chuckling under my breath. Then immediately get on the cell phone to inform everyone who needs to know that the packag Open the case and valiantly defuse the ticking bomb inside, with your mad skills!

There's something I'd like you to do for me. Will you?

Well, ah, what is it? I'd like to get a full written detail of any requests made of me, in triplicate, thanks. No. Sure thing! I do, of course, reserve the right to kill you if I don't like it. What's in it for me? I'm busy. Get someone else to do it. Do I have to? What's the magic word? Ja whol! Right away. Would you like fries with that? *cringe* What do you want from me!? I'm giving the orders this time, bucky.

QuizillaImagine it. Create it. Share it.

One word: Shoes.

What're you drinking?

Whose fault is it?

What do you do?

After a few drinks, you're most likely to...

Pick a word. Any word.

one word for you: Russia.

It seems as if someone has forgotten their briefcase right next to your chair! How curious... what ever will you do?

There's something I'd like you to do for me. Will you?

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QuizillaImagine it. Create it. Share it.

What sort of Dead Nazi are you?

One word: Shoes.

What're you drinking?

Whose fault is it?

What do you do?

After a few drinks, you're most likely to...

Pick a word. Any word.

one word for you: Russia.

It seems as if someone has forgotten their briefcase right next to your chair! How curious... what ever will you do?

There's something I'd like you to do for me. Will you?

Link:

Log in

About this Quiz

Got An Idea? Get Started!

NEW TO QUIZILLA?

Partners