|
In the kisser
|
with a swisher
|
Disregarding heretofore inconsequentialities,
|
and nonproductive rhyming,
|
we recommence proceedings:
|
We last saw
|
yes, another flaw
|
on the butt
|
, the huge butt,
|
of the deceased
|
as it released
|
its gaseous odours.
|
Suddenly, from behind
|
she was taken
|
and strongly shaken
|
until dead. SO,
|
Carl's smelly shirt
|
ended up involved
|
in a murder.
|
Whereby the reality
|
of what had
|
been previously believable
|
had been stretched
|
in goatse stylee
|
to Hillary's combat
|
level 4 which
|
meant exceptionally evil
|
underpant gnomes were
|
about to begin
|
gnawing on leather
|
and fingering the
|
little man in
|
the bad place.
|
This caused a
|
comet to explode
|
. Donder and Blitzen,
|
were only grazed
|
by the globs
|
of manatee spunk
|
that flew freely
|
coating everything completely
|
foam party stylee.
|
Remember Carl's shirt?
|
said the pixie.
|
Where's my pocket?
|
In my trousers!
|
Today begins anew....
|
and my buttocks
|
will remain almost
|
completely encased in
|
galvanized white terrycloth
|
and not in
|
sticky saran wrap
|
for once anyway.
|
All buttocks aside,
|
the long hard
|
road to the
|
big wet sea
|
of bacon fat
|
and warm wet
|
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