Shipping and return policies for The Brothers Wormin

Return Policy

We come from Pluto. You must have noticed that all our songs protest the de-planetizement of Pluto. That is why. If you listen to our lyrics, alot of them are about space and how it is "the place" followed by many "yeah yeah"s. The womb of the darkness spewed us forth into eternal night and we subsequently went to Earth and got some McDonald's. Then we found Fruity Loops on a computer. After going through the land of swirly twirly gumdrops, we went through the Lincoln Tunnel. Really, we are two white guys that come from the bottom of the sea. But that is too normal so we told you the lie that we are from Pluto. Please forgive us and listen to our music, preferably while under the influence of Fruit Loops, maybe with milk. And, we hope you listen to our music while evading taxes and laundering money. Every member of the band is a self-proclaimed "Tax Evasion Aficionado." We all love being audited. It is certainly the most fun thing to do. And, if you were to count how many times any one of us has been audited, it would most definitely beat your whole family's audit-count by a long shot. Even if your family is made up of gambler/crazymen, there will be a wocket in your pocket. Or a zillow on your pillow. Or cats in your pants. But seriously, the number of times we've been audited, collectively, is, like, one or something. There is no wocket in your pocket. Not even a zillow in your pillow. We have no record of said creatures ever existing. All just a mere fabrication on the part of your client. Although, there may be a cat in your pants. We're not really sure how you roll, if you are in to that kind of thing. We don't actually come from Pluto. Nobody does. Nothing ever came from Pluto. Pluto is a Disney character. Space is, in fact, not the place. Not at all. Because space is infinite and never-ending. So it isn't just a "place." Come on, Sun Ra. Get with it. We never eat McDonald's. Ronald the clown honestly just gives us the willies. None of us have ever even heard of the Lincoln Tunnel. What are you, a bunch of four year olds? We are. What about that? Huh? You think we come from the bottom of the sea? What a bunch of morons. Actually, that would be us, again. Darn. And, we don't advise you to drink milk, or eat Fruit Loops. Milk is basic cow pee. And Fruit Loops are loops from fruit. Who would willfully ingest such horrible substances? A bunch of four year olds, that's who. We eat Fruit Loops with milk on a daily basis. Now you pretty much have to rethink your whole life plan, don't you. This is causing a major catastrophe within your inner circle of friends and family, isn't it. Good. We want it to. Although, as a collective of milk eating pre-schoolers, we can't actually will anything. We don't even know what "will" is. Such an existential implication of space means nothing to sub-grammar school toddlers. Don't get yourself smacked up by a bad boy on the playground, especially not while listening to Rock and Roll. That is the Devil's music. He has rocks. And no we will not sign up for "Friends & Family: The Best Value in Wireless." Come on, Verison. What is your deal? Who are you to accuse me? We are lionheaded ogres who eat the flesh of newly picked peaches. That is false. We don't like peaches. We only like leeches. And leech food. And leech beaches, which are basic sandy cove-type areas where leeches like to "lay out" and tan, and pretty much just bro out and play some football and listen to Incubus. We hate pop culture references. Especially references to internet videos. What kind of loser would do that. Come on now. Just put it on your Myface. Do it. Now just wait a minute. You aren't sure what a Myface is, are you. Good. Because it doesn't exist. Take that, corporate slaves. Put that in your pipe and use it to bring water from some water source to your home. Oh. Did you see what I did there. No. Because you are blind. Score. Not for you. For us. Score for us. Because being blind kind of sucks, we're guessing. Not a fun time, on the whole. For instance, if you are trying to drink milk straight from the tap, i.e., from a cow, you may actually drink actual cow pee. Not a great situation, unless you have some type of thing where bovine urine turns you on. In some sensual/sexual/fetishistic manner. In which case, have at it. If that rattles your saber. Or floats a boat. Or something. Anywho, we here at Frank's Meatball factory like to take our customers by the throat and show them a good time. Not literally, of course. The throat thing, that is. We're pretty sure that would be tantamount to assault or something, and legal action would probably be taken against us by some of the more uppity of the potential clients. Throat clutching isn't usually a very polite thing to thrust upon somebody, not on the first date at least. Unless there's some type of mutual-type agreement involved. Beforehand. Which brings us to our next point. Since we are just two people, we have four hands. Which means that we could grab four throats simultaneously, just the two of us. Without involving any other employees. Which, if we involved the others, would bring about a whole mess of legal action, what with all the simultaneous unwanted throat-grabbing, and such. Thanks to political correctness, gone are the days when you could grab throats at will, without asking permission. This saddens us, because that was a good hobby. But also with our four hands we can type twice as much on a keyboard, and make twice as much crappy music that sucks and that you hate. Which is why you go crazy with all the "milk" (cow pee if you're blind). We really wish you would stop the madness. The cow pee. You are tearing this family apart. You stumble in at 3. 3 in the afternoon. With cow pee on your lips. If you hate the music that much, then probably it would probably be a good idea to stop listening to it. Simple as that. Because ruining your body any more is not an option, at this point. We don't want to see you end up like your cousin Jebediah. Or like Prince. But to be fair, who in the hell names their son Jebediah. And Prince, at one point he didn't even have an actual name. I mean, his name was a freaking symbol. Not cool. Total catalyst for destructive behavior. So, think twice (four times, if you're two people) before listening to this horrible band. And don't listen to us unless you like grindcore/country.