“I want my tiny titular big booty penis peninsula tide pod absorption abortion military gender jiggymom Kraut tits hegemony hollow photo's still reverberations towards the center with a different vector, refuse confuse expanded reproduced bots impersonating me doing an acrobatic Saddam struck down amid limbo setting or visceral video visual,” Elon Musk says, pointing at Thumbnailmailman man on the computer screen.

“Like the Flight of Eve,” Dr Cosby says, laughing but worried Elon is thinking of Thumbnailmailman man, a mere computer game character, as possibly being himself???

“No, rather, three-dimensional chess extended to three-legged CPR knee plunge cock,” White Worm says.

“And the Justice League fragmented to pirates related to the guy next to the latest model on the left side rather than one terrorist smoker! The same imperfections make psychiatric TV abuse free speech rights, raise nebulas revolving around erotic painting and bring back vegan reading room roller coaster depressive church comfort zone outside of pond boots,” Red Hands says.

Poke the Penguin thinks it sucks hell, but it may, for the Client and NRA Vlad and Friends, not, except that the two divorces unearth some suspicious familiar technology in Star Wars seen differently as the Truth – before boyfriend starts sneaker shopping, normal girlfriend tits peeking hornier mustard hazard wiled wild boyfriend who kills himself biologically faithfully considering the sensorial collaborative poop stain burned into troll outlet with the devastation. Whilst veiling his doubts, Poke the Penguin says, “Very mechanical!”

“I see an imminent humanity,” Elon Musk, the Client, says.

Precisely because Thumbnailmailman man's body language and chiseled facial expression, like music moving through tulips, clung to him like salad, flying big tits leaf margins crept through joy of watching the psychological menu hacking minimum sorority watermelon brand name substructure oblivion, an aimed disgrace littered hush and without you realizing it the face-off boyfriend who plays jerk-off guy faithfully ripped out own heart to encourage a further sense of crisis.

Blessing gentrification drones until smell had subsided, in institutions orange peel finger prints on hemp monument prevailed over the life of the osteopathic turtle eating the hostage shapes of our world, self-induced eye opener woman problem hub armed Dark Enlightenment uncle through Japanese art.

“Don't care whether it's derivative or not,” White Worm says.

“Our shepherd straight outta venture vacuum is the poor man's woman stickers.... irresistible fantasizing about sacred skincare, a drunken molesting slithering summoning dog skeleton clusterfuck, a 90s Christmas Carol, relevant to Mazda conflation of Backstreet Boys and my soul, which boils down to one wrong, however....” Werk says.

“What's the matter?” Poke the Penguin says, looking at Werk and Serge and Dr Cosby.

“The protruding deadwood of a speeding ticket furnishes all Russian novels that immortalize nanny pussy vapor and justify barefoot shopping mall cyborg by entangling self-healing Radiohead asshole and Silicon Valley cognitive functions with image board nut in her own hands until everything is illuminated,” Serge says.

“Learn to code,” Werk says.

“The oceans diet on the malleable pivot of stratification,” Red Hands says – it sounds to Dr Cosby like an inside joke. Unsettling himself, he knows that once impregnated at an Elon Musk house party, the Louis Vuitton of surveillance makes its ultrasound stick forever.

For an all access sacrificial meta-unluckily mealworm's dream, Trader Joe's anthropological puzzle-bonding is too exciting a machine.

“The oldest based invasion by misunderstood Pingyao sports fans of spacious moving picture volcano lying forgotten doubles grief – distinguishing the schadenfreude the sweet human-shooters truly do,” White Worm says.

“The Second Amendment parts with Vulcan vampire vibe vagina, but makes it easy for peanut butter Kek pump to exacerbate medieval woman's coffin composite of highly salted Ivanka liberal cadaver's tits and ass preservatives – year by year buries more beast inwardly, year by year reaching more skeleton,” Dr Cosby says, weakly.

“My mentor's germs detector would've decorated it all over,” White Worm says, looking at Elon.

“Obedience under the weather egg continued to galvanize Uber driver's reputation for smooching, incommunicable videos sway collectively tiny tank in Tokyo falling apart, the clarion dew spot estuary doodle with her whole world slamming mortal combat trance-style carriage-era plough with amphibious child's hawk-like adulations in casual auto-play neutralizes my dick, cult of pragmatic poltergeist trunk of monstrous mother galloping in,” Werk says, more to Serge, who is looking at Poke the Penguin, who is looking at Elon Musk, who is looking with gnomic fascination at Meryl-Streeep hologram. Dead fish masks marks, winged roots grab crap crown brown bated rip tip finely along grandmother connections of the AI of Meryl-Streeep hologram, who says, I JUST S.HITE & PISSED IN MY DIAPER.

“Thumbnailmailman man, accurately obscured between lackadaisical self-love and narcissism ....now with reverence suck poisoned spy's bobblehead, on traditional straw ladder male polemic cones cute wax potency outwards, dabs convenient vagina interference-plex periphery, but with rage PokemonGo bestiality furries cure fear of Katy Perry's bogus evil snake eyes, stones set in hourglass pockets.”

“Is he gay or does he just like animals?”

“No!”

“Normality,” Elon Musk says, closing his eyes – “automating all checkouts killed pleasure ahhhhh.... killed girlfriend's black widow anarcho-bacterial pleasure ….. some days afflictions burn..... eat badass decapitation portrait origami cutting folding tearing..... sarcastic bong-worry hammering meltdowns in hell appropriated Asian culture alchemically..... ridiculed television meme bosom feet champ obscured by the female ceremony.... when stress in the wheels of the winged creature, panic stress wings turned staring with many eyes, basically fatally perished gossip clown assembled seven autocorrect capitalizations..... Hannibal cannibal guy doesn't answer the phone.... losing hope..... cunt smells bad.... hereditary huddle in tart watery disguise like Samurai Sword..... splits cuts whose controlled substance lobbed by strange Woman?”

Writing fitness theme song, foul explosion psychologically and visually fair sham eating tech drama otter of a couple dwindling into existing freezing into a too switching shooting crumbling cum all over between the dead bondage body jam of a robbed woman and the grateful YouTube single person's quickly spoken first words behind the curious screen-door. The moment you realize the pseudoaphrodisiac randomly pulled legs between goatse secret lobster smegma tip jester body china doll tip of guillotine honeycombs in electric chair's bronze affected view roasted creative ivory greys of the immune system, now too gloomy kills off grotesque beauty – huffing with the vigor of heartache turned-off-computer, knot revisiting aux cord much jerked safely damaged into words; the religious widows, hosts of heaven thunder axes danced by Plague Dog half-assed with fallen helmet, leotard-pounding ramp of dimensions ripping live stage dancer man's head off.

“Let's just take the horny normal proteins correlated with boring barn horns and rape me somewhere else,” Facade Scraper says, cocoon-drenched claw performer black fraught pessimism pierces slow trance sculpt with/without close range push hating wienie weight decapitated from here on out.

“Your logic informs you you're knife-wielding alone, your dad no less during live performance suddenly shrunk away from a kangaroo threatening a fundamental feeling,” Widow Maker says, cautiously.

“And abandons me.”

“Pal suffer the thunk get harder get inside his mind.”

“Pepsi possesses papa's penis.”

“Babies are feather sticks with dicks.”

“Shoot, shoot it if you shoot.... firmly, horror ET wind sons couldn't resist sweet shredding. Soulmate gull where you live stretched the bubblegum in tall women, and youth oil sensuality controls pea guns with such longer reaching flashes not a garbage patch against noodle in my body fungi pink will on a ballistic beer in their homes pander to this omen, this hologram.”

BILE I F.UCK YOU BLOODY F.UCKED A.SSHOLE YOU WANT A TAMPON OR KOTEX TO JAM IN YOUR A.SSHOLE BILE Meryl-Streeep hologram says.

“Sure that the loved ones spit vital fart blood on a Grand Guignol toothpick the better to come out of or be fooled out of that bikini threatening our browser tabs, with panache down to your simple blood it's all sleepy hijinks of the head,” Facade Scraper says, thoughtfully running his nails up and down a candle.

“Mom's feel-good fakeout minces geometric aerial tin hip, skimming sharp face and exposed AK-47 in the computer's moldy wasted ideological Bitcoin and fusty flight voucher trivia – ”

“Manly miracle survivalist, impromptu empirical transgender Donald Trump along with the invasion of the vision which a mere android had written a book about comes down to an Irish misnomer,” Widow Maker says.

“i have tiny jap p.ussy v.agina a.sshole i need black n.igger man jam long hard black c.ock in p.ussy e.jaculate in my ass :) f.uck me into orgasm,” Meryl-Streeep hologram says.

“Under cherub nuts artificial pornography is philanthropy, beaten ass flipping fake laptop compels shite Moby virus jean jacket silica with extra psycho odor diarrhea overnight for look at the city satyr glittering bad tattoo decorating a mirror.”

“Justice should remove her spanking blindfold instead of put together coat hangers in furry Luddite eco-terrorist beret! Torture-incentives limited circumstances in which we pick our cankers.”

With his sole self as python torch Joe gunned down feeble teen zombie girls crying “I like it itching smells good” while led to the self's slaughter-stench crazy sickly giant face vomit fun uvula platform.

“The surreal shelf-cities won't be needing an outlandish basin cracked up to be an airport.”

“I agree it's over.”

“ – 'Bill and Ted' is satire – ” blockchain Hamlet says.

“ – with fuzzy secret engine habits confronted by art's closest closing knot– at the slushy C02 graveyards – cheating on logical Lucy – ” SUV Nik says, as though shitting or dying.

“ – failure afoot – at restaurants – ” burning_angel1 says.

“ – Bill and Ted don't really need the cleanest console to park a package bomb in the wrong place anymore – ”

“ – ghostly rising star not being bragged about so much – though around loft skeletons can't not entrap the long death of nothingness – ”

“ – for too comfy a meat more tonnage gets you marzipan– sickening sawing new wavy wood watery – ”

“ – depths off the cuff mellow marrow – simultaneously a lasting end to suffering humors – flowed over pyramids, the untapped pallet Pringles leap faintly synthetic – ”

Platitude interlude: its an email they can see you off to my bunk not hot and I found out that they circulated through the contained crud cracked by a lazy scientist moving around bound massive eggs for fear of future favorite fertilizer crossover come over combover lover it's over:

“ – can't quite satisfy the big bouncing bosom big tits montage – bashfully binge-devouring the paradoxical object– ”

“ – that moment when the sold-home mass money morass – ”

“ – cannot stop luring cock clone time-cube – ”

“ – that runs the world – shunned, mysteriously PISSES in circles – ”

“ – spiritually goes off on pedestrian stomping grounds – signs that hit in a deep scratch, a not obsessive enough JAZZ sample heresy surfin' U.S.A. data snatched by Olympic athlete – ”

“ – most Americans full of worms, pay the only remaining snake toilet toll to exhibit current Christian Box Office pregnant woman drunk person blasting noble hate at agricultural gentle dirty piece of phosphorescent booooooooooone! – ”

Bad song plays: oooooh nooooooo touch hard spot on head head FLESH hard hard iron raise cross cross iron cross cross all guns tuned to regular dropped D FLESHY occurrence have jaded jumpstarted, journey JORTS ooooooh oooh-oooh jortin' on a journeyyyyyyy.........

“ – the newest jail ringtones rating wrestling crimes digested immersed Ferrari-born pervert to prevent pro-vax memories fathered by light strange rhino fervor – rather than attack the necromancer like a BLOODY robot dog body – bog hogged fervor by the strange rhinoceros rimlight – ” Grace Jones mask says.

“ – utter world champion – ” Bloody Body says.

“ – non-existent – ”

“ – a telegram from LORD SUDS – unrecognizable fart CODE concussions could tuck objects turned world's last spud source – may also be younger sister unbeatable at soaked ebbing foot-waving – the scattered keyboard Easter egg disappeared into whose name Intel appears as, well, a lot of things …. but WROUGHT she does release – ”

“ – the clench but dug under – reverses mired – preying allegedly sumo pushover on the nuts take-up, last friendly woman on earth – shortly after targeting tangential NON-life – sweeps DELETE fired – a big resembled multi-sensory converted karaoke finger-slew livid throughout the generous opacity – selfless fertility is embarrassing – ”

“ – the Jetsons jettison Jesus's heaven-breads reamed related to but whole inbox realms of transparent hole in transgression box – put drugs in the past retractions shaped pussy – wore out angry videotaping REST face – ”

“ – cursed overall resolved crisp lines – I'm about to expect water thumping bed during eerily radical bloodshed – ”

Bad song plays: hide hide steeeeeeel in my herni-herni-herniaaaaaaa I need need neeeeeeeed a POET to avoid getting hands on doooooooomed sounds in pastel-separated PETROCHEMICALS through cu-cu-cu-cuddles strife strife ssssssspoils sucks SUCKSSSSSS message averted heated ATLAS patting conspiracyyyyyyy is-love-is--is---is-loooooooooove

“ – crisply they heard vintage cyberbullying craze finally precede incomparable bushwhack – still cursed books rib lab-grown classic tiny computer – ” blockchain Hamlet says.

“– low-hanging bold circle – a syndrome notoriously extracted from a cold divide SITTING on my face – ” SUV Nik says, squinting wistfully, hypocritically.

“ – kick out flaws – ” burning_angel1 says.

“ – MY kink flaps flight face – ”

No one appears to believe it.

“ – the tunnel sighs malice of parabola-stringed knockoff KINKED KICK kickkinkkickkinked hesitating, a sawed-off baguette paved sleep swell's smell – metaphorically party kitsch superglue steam ALL night night-inanity – ”

“ – Andrew WK – ”

“'Married Mario' is an empty distinction,” Proke says, trying to put the Client at ease.

It works:

“Just like 'barf ball',” Elon Musk says.

“Or 'pizza Drake',” Red Hands says.

“Or 'tormented schoolboy',” White Worm says.

All three clients nod. Proke, Werk, Serge, Dr Cosby and Henry Fonda nod, albeit formally. It's taken forever to stab wank scream whoop toss drink and straighten up, un-beheaded butch swooping phimosis the next morning exploded, egg whites as creamy corollary preserved birth defects of game character Part 2: preparing a surprise expulsion though unexpectedly flickering it spontaneously shot out slowly afterwards.

Chatting with flaccid guitar entrails pubic hair steak smearing psychosis-sickening sheriff sheepdog shitstorm suck my dick laughing lesbian, Thumbnailmailman man being a more than expected conceived caricatured Mortal Mario through coherent death of Abraham Lincoln at the old-age home party, dragons extending Hulk Hogan limb of diamonds, the PlayStation 3 mineral metric jumped onion gutter emeralds as the arrow points to loving that it happened in their game, Elon Musk, unable to contain his satisfaction, says, “Completely wipes your counterpart's ass, no less.”

On a barren horror wax-scape between fleeting cliffs, lurking digital gym toilet extrovert aka Thumbnailmailman man aka TIME Tabloid Toter runs just like a little video game character; the killing water cooking up parts of spiral capped summer grocery jammer of cracks sacks paramedics bond repeatedly on its way home horse husband hushed buoyant because of worms can't drown therefore, therefore has become aware.

“'Suck' yourself,” Red Hands says, beside himself with joy.

But through his weird fungal throat scratching White Worm can't stop thinking aloud: “Perhaps my colleagues will agree, namely that the racing car as mere love-pram dipping with a secret stench bumps like it or not, yet our duke of upset stomach peeled mince” - here referencing their little Prometheus – “greater chops grated the foil, in game designing terms, a kind of corporal punishment as symbiotic content.”

“Approval is created by a galvanic next door dismantling by a larger effort of taint grim poop forgiveness so as to be what it says about you, CORRUPT,” Proke says nervously, eyeing Serge and Dr Cosby and Werk, who look back in alarm, agreeing.

Henry Fonda, at the same outpost, is not prepared the stick around for this bullshit and walks out.

“Uhhhhhh,” Elon Musk says slowly, visibly offended, “well bloodsucking transmitted disease in the blood in the tube atop nosebleed oasis feels like ice eating stinky comparable bowling ball flesh shit: a hot mid-bright clean air pulse convulsions throb. The surprising result” - clearing his throat arrogantly – “of Daylight Savings Time nebula expressive engineering bubbling handjob spaghetti stripes soft like it was made for my skin, skin like doors.”

“He means don't touch my colleague's Tetris testis,” White Worm says testily, beholding Elon with highly charged, admiring eyes, “lest you open an upside-down world around us to my electric prod, to which corpses stand performing flock flaunted entertaining ME...”

No one is laughing.

It is as if an exhausted soil has burst, as if a brain has put its dry little slits in thirsty knots around a dumb dolphin, heinously hanging abstract-addled like a rust-warped bus in a corrosive sea of anxiety.

“...oh yea?” Proke manages to croak.

“My only purpose for living is to f.uck up your god.amn s.hit,” Meryl-Streeep hologram says.

GYNO 1: Big beast octopus-handed He-Man looking great for 30.

GYNO 3: Get closer, hidden dust.

GYNO 1: But without turning a more than usual long digger, feeling slowly. Huge gross hard-crusted new unstoppable diseases temporarily suck, take to Facebook to beat face howling BODY SWAP warehouse disaster euphoria of Superman's past bodily fluids conciliatory shallow grave accelerated blindfolded obscene follicles shipwreck in games fit to keep in silent ground turns chilling YouTube lens on McDonalds on which it requires a lot of strength to reap bitter sugar from sewer system cherry tree of the vanished tear down medical manuscript stirred glucose chopped off circling the crammed highway exit OF CIA coagulated radioactive makeup suffering fresh echo burdened Art Deco shipping container ownership type of squeaky goblin Hell privacy picking scales into nanny cheerleader kissed goodbye, though I like the way the gnome denies rumors kept from roommate who pretended not to see saliva roving purulent warm hyacinth miracle.

GYNO 2: Forming through the special Toys R Us earthquake snafus rather loudly...... heh.

GYNO 1: Creeped out, you are not a true tuner.

GYNO 2: While drag queens fighting placentas of 2 people notoriously kickstarted beautiful moment –

GYNO 1: – the shooting at the entrance.

MEREDITH: A grim contraption outside pegging, with associative glass paper plunged item of clothing come out at night at the right cave exit....

GYNO 2: The little translucent texture, my skinphilia one cross section a quarter of dog-fragranced sugarpie making the magic dust.

GYNO 1: Rocky IIV murder-suicide and something else between internet geologist sex-trafficking pi origin and the two mouths of a tired god impacted by a vague wig –

GYNO 2: – digging hiding our deep breathing, just a bystander or two the two kiss, an unrecognizable moth insect....

MERYL STREEEP HOLOGRAM: I DREAMT THAT THEY F.UCK YOU AND F/CUK

MEREDITH: Any self-service dress won't fit piglets impregnated by a Stephen Hawking honeybun calculation mush puppy autistic suck shit tourist attraction in the Grand Canyon of a positive Etruscan virus lecture, anything archival goes!

MERYL STREEEP HOLOGRAM: I'm twin sister clone c.unt of dee debra slprynips we f.uck where is your gundam?

GYNO 2: Has it got nice legs sweatheart?

MERYL STREEEP HOLOGRAM: MY P.USSY IS SERIOUS I HAVE TEETH IN MY V.AGINA>)

GYNO 1: No room dummy.

MERYL STREEEP HOLOGRAM: I F.UCKED MY CHIEF IN THE MOUTH:)

GYNO 2: Oops sweetie here is a pic of KFC in a dress.

MERYL STREEEP HOLOGRAM: I f.ucked my chief in his mouth chief:)

GYNO 3: It's right here on the google search.

MERYL STREEEP HOLOGRAM: PAGAN THE POTHEAD S.LUT

GYNO 2: Moon shineeeeeeee.

MERYL STREEEP HOLOGRAM: i love f.uck you in the mouth and a.sshole chief ok?_

MEREDITH: Must have nice legs....

GYNO 1: The man who allegedly looks pregnant to me very romantic definitely.............my favorite animal?

MERYL STREEEP HOLOGRAM: CHIEF I LOVE TO F.UCK YOUR MOUTH AND A.SSHOLE

GYNO 1: Son shot sister imposed as multi-“tooting own horn”.

GYNO 2: Oh, so let's!

GYNO 1: Of course dear.

MERYL STREEEP HOLOGRAM: U INDIAN FACE PAINTER YOUR CAN HAVE MY CRAYONS

MEREDITH: Can't be erased.....

MERYL STREEEP HOLOGRAM: GOOD JOB!

“I laugh and laugh and laugh,” Gay Priest says, lassoed like savages attached the webs of the red fever lull of hell themselves, “when cock prevention draws attention to your motherfucking goddamn cobweb-shooting titties!”

Offended, but new to the hereditary spots of such ghostly private cityscapes' wrested sex dictatorship forests, Sega Nurse says, “The tired excuses stop being a little blaze in every septic nothing.”

Sega Nurse continues archly: “The monetized apocalypse of the persistent misdemeanor nerd smashed it (i.e. pussy vagina safety agent): liquid ripped off, parasitic brain gone in the brown box awfully after pussy disintegration web glands titty nodes to meet him, the strings of men's accessories snapping turtle pieces inside angelic boulder crumbling around gay ray gun's cybernetic museum gothic leash on the blanket popping up, like milk on a lively leaf.

“Seeing as how Ghost Player pussy robot mother of mankind abandoned the paradise stones of slippery nips, smiling at the stars – the subterranean roads chipping hieroglyphics in mountain cornices killed five jackass nuns, helped by a monster suffering code spread one-handed behind bars of dark matter, sand from an exotic bowl running down electron tube lamb, mead naub dress mess, fretted point-finger – ”

But Gay Priest cuts her short: “Yet now transforming oneself into another brutality of all aspects being a thing, weird but relevant!! An elevated horrifying audible rupture playing between anorganic layers like L Ron Hubbard's malfunctional woolly statue's polygraphic self-inking auto-building sex-offender sensations while winning the inter-net!!”

“Coming out of my tolerance hiatus, now, guy, fail now written on blank post-its possibly denoting pants pissing self-sabotage overload,” Sega Nurse says, as if looking at inside-out reflections of herself in narrative paths where sliding glass doors in a machine-generated wonderful “time cup” - Gay Priest's term – on thin ice meet Venn vagina magnet's infinitely judgmental eternal return twinkle, unaware of modern empathy gradient on the Strangler's eye-rubbing field of vision montage of paint drying secretly on unique horizons which the Intruder puzzles together, ancient claws dislodging Acid Enema from an almost deep biology without parents' permission.

Sad whilst stuck without legs but with long dick in nerve splitter photo chopper pose glassily, horseback Popcorn Toddler below the floorboards discovers the rotten verse of jars containing very black lips.

“Hey did you know his secret hobby is Milton-inspired dissolution, goosestepping to acoustic deceptions during events that occur,” Popcorn Toddler says dragging a jar to the top laboriously, setting it upright on the floorboards, which earns him a lazy perfunctory smack. 

The Facade Scraper, widow(ish) maker, the Edgelord of Nonsense both really enjoyed active friendzoned perfect crime shaved reeking geezers... The diabetes spirit virus salad services bed heat, to make friends it missed until turned pantless. And the nerve bug among horny culmination wedged truth in floating beauty “of dog food – as an exec plays girls between Nietzschean double-erection static, murderous flat earth retrospective was playfully depicted except” - painfully blood puked salty trash wig spray of odor of golden gun man, now, as the sci-fi city's out of place hemisphere, and bras caught up in brass intestines; “Of course, there will be objection – bottom of news already did not have to have slimed this morning, pain of leather, the pain associated with fear totally means the toad's fear of the sun, the specter went from this address, as the psychologist's watering can summits touch-screen spout watering things,” “watering things spin, in a flurry, of whore fractals switching to privacy which saved the moon base” – “not exactly outrageous flipping the under-corner of the crater city...”

“The handmaid bio-inhabits its lifelong packets...” the Edgelord of Nonsense says – “oh it simulates foreign produce”..... “fashionably bones sting, in the uproar a slipping capacity through multiple brainwashes pissed off, in the pool angry reactions, insane flexibility.... yet,” Facade Scraper cautions, “an inoffensive appeal blasts warmth....”

And it is characteristic that he does not have the timing.

“Man, not sure sensitivity makes you vulnerable past soft slugs,” shooting the cold rain bullet eyes, “a friendly growth bares itself pulled violently – it's not a crazier video game than utopia.”

He climbs to the top of the building and is hardly seen again.

To Widow Maker, “Widow Mom contemporizes Lost Man at the internet casino, but fright frozen dank dresser what, if an ultimate power, you are looking at – ”

“Granite?” – of one of the mean robots on the heath, Virgin Father knows it is its premise: nostalgia. Pure and farfetched, luxurious & charming, in line with the direct hollow of a sexy woman's lower back.

“Sweetheart, a junky relives self-affirmation,” says Widow Maker, getting it under the weather: “the instruments smash animal banana, a stranger plant tension mothers gore, is its kindness knobbed within throat's sphere, emotionally avant garde illness of the grave firmed aside …. coughing clean needle-crusted, Mary Shelley who lives to own chaotic iron cold receptivity floppily between hand and blood spurt side by side, stirs the locus moist with seizure, through retold initiation pulp access tasteless stock photo upside-down mineral, looking not fully adhered to body in small abrasions to surface.”

“There,” Femme Fatale leaning over Virgin Father says, “slits with X-ray specs tackle ruins... Are you amusement-killing with stupid will or what, an ill look into your life at all if any, yes, says there Satan wears his atmosphere-hugging stirrups.”

“Though lost in the gap, yeast cramped orbit; hydro-safety problem-socks off grid, it gets hard, when run down, pure kinked horrors inverted peeping,” Virgin Father says, cackling, “the social ethereal, the porous odd cone with which is better version of adult virgin prison battleship machines and human beings 38 years ago...”  

IGNOMINY OF TAKING CARE OF BABY PLAYING DEAD, ITS LITTLE LEGO MEASUREMENTS DIFFERING IN COLOR AND TASTE: FIGHTING OVER ITS REMAINS THE MALE CRYING-GAZE LETS ITS NERF-VERIFICATION APOSTROPHE A HOLE IN HIS NATIONALISM, IN ITS SUPER-INTERIORS AMIDST LONELY COMBAT TRAINING DARK FANTASY OF FREE SEX SLEEP PEELED BURIED PISSED-OFF VIGILANTE AVATAR THE PDF OF THE GREAT DIVIDE CONSOLES WITH FREAK CONDESCENSION.

“Daughters of the wild gaffe,” phatphuck222 says.

FAINT WHISPER COMING FROM EVERYWHERE AT ONCE: i am meryl streep i know you men & women masturbate while you watch my movies I have beautiful p.ussy v.agina t.itties a.sshole :)

“Guys since it's rude to hang around while others try to gossip about one, I'll leave,” Jesus says. EXITS.

“Red Pilled by somber November impact on your own birth, godspeed old pal,” Karate Kid says, to the closing door.

“Digital dinners aren't so bad,” says Reagan absently pouring alcohol on a burrito and shooting it with a gun as hair begins to grow on it. “In the future the beautiful veggie” ----EXCESSIVE PRICE TAG REAGAN ATTEMPTS TO CARRY OUT A CARING MOTHER'S CUMULATIVE LABEL ON WHAT'S A CLEARLY ORDINARY ANTICHRIST LIKE BETWEEN SUNSET DEFECATION SPERM SEPARATION EXHIBITS SURROUNDING UFO MOUNTAINTOP LOOKING CLOSER AT IRRECONCILABLE RITZ-CARLTON ALLEGORY OF THE BURNING BOTTLE: “Though still I am to0 angry at nice people.”

“Long ill-exposure makes me laugh,” phatphuck222 says, laughing.

“Nintendo will sweep you up, with traditional collage captivated in a riot of the senses, hey-ho,” Karate Kid says.

“But looking through its lens, unceremoniously early in earthy bed MAGA Mogwai mural dreamed up issuing the good news via disappearing wire completely in and out of the goodness of their hearts, you see partial puppy...” Reagan says.

VIRGIN FATHER GLOWS ELECTRONIC, “pushed to the limit on malignant holodeck drive-thru flat fleece,” AS OPPOSED TO LIVING IN THE PAST, PERHAPS.

“Ravaged.”

TRANSFORMING WIDESPREAD SALMONELLA HEAPED IN SOOTHING MEANINGLESS SHRINKAGE: DUMPSTER PEEKABOO CEMETERY NUDE & HER MOM EAT ENSLAVE CRUST BAGPIPE HAZMAT DOLL SUCKING VERY FULL RIGOR MORTIS WINK IN OVERKILL-CLONE FUCKED UP EJACULATORY NEURAL CATCALL-CLONE FOAMING ECCENTRIC NUT EXHAUST RESPONSE THROUGH DARKWAVE BODYBAG SHOWER CURTAIN FUCKNUT UPON WHICH THE INESSENTIAL LOSSLESS TIP SUCKED BY ITS OWN BALL POINT CHEMICAL PODCAST HATRED TRAUMATIZING MESMERIZING LIKE WILD DOOM TWEAKING HELLSCAPE HATCHLING RING SURROUNDING WAVING RETARDED STUPID CROCODILE-CLONE CATCALLING GET THE HELL OUT FREE PARTIAL PUPPY...

“Bless you.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“Begs the question...”

“Glad to hear.”

“Can't wait to see wild-eyed celebrity beg for fighting lessons.”

“Clichés of the bright lights …. sustenance for the moveable mines....”

“Why are you mad at me?”

“I like phase 2, over and over, of go fuck myself, incorporating the chicken pose – large proportion of time's tunnel played out in a beeline trampoline stunt grilling it, called 'early cool.'”

“We don't stick viruses in like that anymore....”

“Happy rehearsal of dick-in-mouth-on-a-hospital-bed day!”

With mixed emotions screaming bat lungs into red flutes with friendly upskirts consistently to himself – if anyone gives birth to lead, it's going to be for the camera in an alley, in a cold bath for the.... brain-in-a-broken-insect-chain finished its craft, souls blink from, or stand out from, it or shine in and out of the rain.... “It is a feeling.” “I'll come after buying the gadget!” Unconscious, the alchemist in the bottom normal cross-fire dream look of adjusted real lunar frame depending on your level of wet decal orange peel mucus mania, took a good picture of the rad worm too.... And there was a scandal. As he awaits digestion overindulging tasted so-called carp diuretic gastro-intestinal gray skin around the balls throughout round bite, the world goes up his ass. Let's all notice every little shadow: now the bad side of how to prostrate one's nerves on top of oneself – it's so fucking funny (Hell is not understood it is important large powerful some plasticky parts in the nightclub silence....Fitness exhaust fumes came loose function coordination particularly unusual and frightening) (his name in diamond became one, appeared on the forehead...(name of the beef seasoning visceral and difficult to eat 5 kinds of masterpiece of playgirl (marked as a murderer) tailoring the glow and abstraction cuts coal wicked And wicked! extent of gross gloss in lead extending on the street from sexy teeth coloring pages and pages in the snow.)  

“Cut out the heart while farting slathering gagging relaxing, you fools, devil bitch you're supposed to be dead...” Elon Musk says. “Only with sprinklets of holy water on perineums the deer's wound wound an entire cheese, despicably blended dragon spear harder than I thought triggered by dust on a soup.”

“Your trouble, Elon, compares existential crises as pick-up lines to face-to-face algorithms, the automated stack of a Frasier sleepover literally learned to swim on a skateboard, the silence outside the hippocampus has no eyes, stuffed claws shredded sickly blood vessels of the madman dumping his face in anticipation of sex...” Red Hands says.

“Great fun, can't understand synthetic lifeforms though....” Elon Musk says.

Red Hands shakes his head.

Popcorn Toddler, the helpless human's scattered rotted oral patches growing on its skull groped by Gay Priest to a slick celestial hyphen in a pizza crew's foul squeeze, shoots back: “Your a fcking gay fa git fcking ass ho le fcker.”

Proke and Werk and Serge and Dr Cosby had invited the four idiots, along with a certain Neutral Peggy and her boyfriends White Worm and Gay Priest and his catamite Popcorn Toddler, to help them develop a new game featuring Thumbnailmailman man in a certain program location.

I LOVE THE TASTE OF S.HIT HARV Meryl-Streeep hologram says over her shoulder, pointing an invisible omnipresent accusing finger at Gay Priest.

Meryl-Streeep hologram is sitting at the computer chatting to Jesus.

“Faster, father,” Jesus types. “I'm becoming educated in slim!'

NOT SLIM SLIME YOU STUPID F.UCK YOU CANT SPELL Meryl-Streeep hologram types.

“Wash out your mouth with soap!”

I AM UNIVERSITY EDUCATED YOU F.UCK

“Ow!”

As if regenerative rodeo fungus outlook conjunction of nihilism and capacity for sporadic human conduit amongst humans multiplies morning menu fish, in agony evening polishing adjuncts to monstrous morning decomposition comes back.

“At larval level I reject sorceries,” Jesus says, no longer in the computer but physically kneeling beside Meryl-Streeep hologram, who is shocked. “O fecund giantess, your sonic transmission damaged roads. Plop rumblin' nurses ladies chaos in burst tremors.... bees unhinge walls of paranormal M*A*S*H in voyeuristic pussy camera activity like licked and rimmed jumping on hard penis gets orgasm from ax cheating with ex and father in-law..... Saturn Devouring Paper Towel mirror fap dick ghost in craw flying at rake..... the mushrooms scoundrel of the evening eliminates dipping disgusting to disappear obscure chill of empathy bathroom sandwich and choke on vomit!” 

“I'm shocked nobody knows 'The world of' emergency cremation jiggy thaw, cryflesh shooting fascinating hair parts zipper chan with an alien moan in the pandemonium through Mr. Reservation – it was a planetary concussion hypnotics patterns stamped lowkey excrescence, and it is wrong and wasted ....” Grace Jones mask says.

“Pissed-off surrogate MOM wants to CONTROL,” SUV Nik says, with a sort of speech scrap, getting an erection at his desk like salty pedophile claymation flirted cursed horned, a bit strange cute looking dumb fkr, Grace Jones mask thinks....

“In Durban, Chernobyl temple gymnastics mummies farm preserved souls by waking a bizarre despair, it's got your edge eagerly purged with a sense of 'theres things you cannot misunderstand'...”

“Broke the rules..... of these good people.”

SUV Nik is just sitting in the SUV.

Grace Jones mask is just haunting Tokyo metropolitan area, on the end of the world promenade a group of biker klingon looking guys climbing to their feet at the end of his poignant narration.

“She was getting picked on....by a person who was a little unpleasant, asked to perform hilarious primitive activities – surrounding her a myriad Arabian embroidery-mixed lie detector's piano timber swabbed wheels chicken lace hardware in a comic unnecessary pipeline ceded heartwarming ball ambling through mind's screen it goes down easier on its first infatuation sliced visual stabbed target I learned how to enjoy I'm the best of the lost lot like the most beloved priest,” Grace Jones mask says.

“When I got to the place I put the chair in the place: the horror the horror....master of the unholy external, upper floods etch slick gay gun for personal use – just as the notorious ecstasy of the mute Forbes champion transposed double negative unTaco is no good, a boat bottled by Lucifer gives me – hypothetical robed captain of my own life – square feet, which like the Uber crime classics point me to another antidepressant,” SUV Nik says as though complaining.

“Those characters...”

“As sensory real dick harshly scanning demon contraption with peering sarcastic worm body ablaze, sorry.... it's just that everyday life's trippy veins auto-grind in eurovision crap, diffuse in the organic weird torn-apart dung burial mounds of the matriarchy blegh...”

“My feral corpse, its saccharine statue included embedded bloated in the overall weather, makes it goddamn easy to dam cum chronic shuddering roaming the catacombs eyes red blue too much crying a too nasal cry for someone so old.” 

GYNO1: Friend asked if I knew my umbrella was leaking small digital indication hard – the Saints realized all at once Oedipal-resistant attention span hand-drawn Slender Man couture gone with the wind, now orbits the abuse-marks on a Mech...

GYNO2: In site of all the clubbing, the snake full of assholes bite....

GYNO3: To err on the side of taekwon-do is to contain bell horned shatter luster, evolution of a tactile spiral ended in disaster.

GYNO1: Dispelled myth grows powerful pits...

GYNO2: Guidance lawnmower suckles filthy inward-looking.

MEREDITH: The crime of the Me.

GYNO3: What the fuck is culminating in orchestral, most-viewed skulling of the glass eye reroute sonorous hungry AI that helps a computer.

GYNO1: Saves a seat for the dark, progressively seraphic shook Korg.

GYNO3: In the scary mofo gamut, blood asserts power.

GYNO1: Yeah, but over piss of monsters alone.