"It's a big circle, see, and the point is to go around and around and around til you die! Doesn't that sound like FUN?!"
NO!
Wait, let me answer that a different way...
NO, YOU CUM-GUZZLING MORON!!
Why a circle? Why can't I walk to Paris or something?
What does it matter? Do I get some kind of prize if I avoid horrible wreckage and skippity do dah my way into the winners circle?
Or is surviving the only prize... like the Christians vs. Lions matches of old?
I said I'm fucking TIRED! Not just psychologically, either. I guess I should start taking my vitamins again.
But I get the feeling that when I'm sleeping, it's not on hold even then. I ge the feeling that sleeping just lets me stand being cuckoo for a little while longer and not exploding into a tumultuous fury when some teensy-tiny thing goes wrong.
Heh, maybe girls need more SLEEP, if that's the case. Heh, I kill me.
I mean hey, what exactly do you want ME to do about things if you can't sort out what the hell you're feeling in the first place? I told you before, I'm NOT going to take charge. I'm not like that, slim. Basically you're telling me to tell you what to think? No, it just doesn't work out that way.
UH OH, NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN...
And if passing that up means passing up the chance to give you a nice big face-fuck, well I guess I'll have to pass on that too, because I can't stand most of your crap now... and I'm sure you probably have a reserve of baggage that you'll never let go, specially designed to be handled-with-care by boyfriends.
Look, if you need a squeeze-in-the-breeze, I'm yo' stud. I have that covered, just uncover yourself.
No, not *that* way... the actual, physical way. Take off your pants! Lets have a fiesta! Aye-yi-yi-yi-YIE!
I'll swing my stick at *that* pinata, yo!
But that's not what you want. But that is what you want.
But it's not. But it is.
Fuck, here. How 'bout a punch in the nose?
Have a 6 pack, call me back when you've drank it all, and fill me in as to whether or not you want me to fill *you* in.
If not, I'll just slap you on the back of the head and tell you, "Bad girl, bad girl! (Here, have another beer.)Go straighten your shit out yourself! (Drink this, it's good for you.) No one's going to do it for you, and if they do, they're a sap anyhow. (Need another cold one?)"
But you want leaflets from the sky.
Propaganda or no, you'd read every word and keep it deep in your heart. Well, actually you'd probably get someone else to read the words for you, and question them all for double meaning, and then question them again for triple meaning.
(please allow me to introduce myself...)
I mean, Judas Priest, woman! Stuff it up your ass already!
(i'm a man of wealth and taste...)
Stuff *something* somewhere!
(i've been around for a long long year...)
Where do you find solace now? In a machine? In the depths of your mechanical heart, perhaps?
(stolen many mans soul, and i've paid...)
It is the place of all knowing evil, your heart is. Cold and cruel and without worth.
I think I know how you operate. You flash a little thigh my way, grind my crotch a bit, and I stuff a couple of comforting thoughts down your g-string, in 10 and 20 denominations preferably, of course, before you lilt away to some other honry customer, maybe blowing me a kiss before you get on your way.
Yet NOT BLOWING ME!
You're a compliment whore. Your reality is an unreality, where everything happens at once or nothing happens at all.
Where I live, everything happens at once, AND nothing happens at all.
Choke on fat dick. Do it. Choke on fat dick. Here, have a beer... now choke on some more fat dick.
Listen to my balls, they toll for thee! Tee-hee!
(pleased to meet you
i hope you can guess my name...)
Toke on my balls! HaHA! Hmn, I really, really, really, really, really, really liked you when I thought you had a brain in your head. It's true, it's damn true.
Oh, I just poked myself in the eye. Yowch. Anyhow, what was I saying?
(but what's puzzling you is the nature)
I will not have sympathy for you, oh my precarious little devil.
(of my game.)
I will, however, fuck you in the ass, should the opportunity arise.
But no, on the more likely side of things...
rather, I suggest, borrowing heavily from Grumpy Old Men,
that you just do us all a favour
oh, me especially, HON,
by cordially pulling your lip over your head
and swallowing.
Cum now, you surely can't be a newcomer to swallowing!
Yeah! Burn!
Back.