[spudcon]

shaking the dreams and the pork of all the said,"WTF, Batman..?! I'm Bruce, Jim, Lumberjim, Isn't it? No, Jimmy Durante and I'm Welsh. this is fucked. I blame spudcon No it's not. Just following rules. Then the monster opened one eye followed by another then v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y swallowed Lj's head! Then burped, loudly! The giant wondered where Jinx was and winked slyly towards the treadmaster. There she was up a gumtree as always, eating her way through a Chipotle burrito. So Drax asked Where's the salad? Incensed, Jinx began to throw salad upwind, into the furry face of her secret lover! She winked, thinking "I miss her" and "I wish she was here instead of me" and started to pick her nose discreetly, like a 3 times a'ladaay.. But Carl's shirt (remember Carl's shirt?) was getting smelly even if he wasn't wearing it so he decided that he had to burn it. Burn, baby, burn! But after seventeen attempts to light his bid torch he gave up, Meanwhile, in Kansas Dorothy was dreaming of sexy scarecrows. And forgetting lions were attacking her she lit up huuuuuuge doobie! and shared it with little Toto. Who promptly fell asleep, and drooling scarecrow semen licked his lips and promptly vomited all over Carl's favorite shirt! "OH!... SHIT! Toto barked my bone is smoking!. The Scarecrow is smoking too!" Please give me vanilla cookies! Suddenly Carl's smelly shirt story ended abruptly. And a new beginning was at hand. The very next day, Carl - remember Carl? – went to get another smelly shirt, but someone shot him. What the fuck? I've done all I can Jim "I'm a Doctor, dammit, not a big wang specialist!"
Meanwhile, on planet Ravolox, the Doctor and his assistant the saucy Brianna, with the oral rinse and naked bent over the desk fashion sense. Confusing sentence disregarded, because its too ridiculous to contemplate we begin again. so, someone start! No way, man. Here we go...
Albert hated shoelaces, so, he threw a fit when he realized that the ceiling fan so to speak, and then he removed the laces from his shoes to make himself invisible and lighter. He left the cake out in the middle of the table in the hallway, when the cops arrived.
It was hot. Thankfully, the shoelaces were not. But his feet stunk and he was foaming at the rear of his foamy bottle brush. "YOU STINK," bellowed Drax, who was a self centered manic depressive bastard with penis issues. He so needs to KILL ALL YOU FUCKERS! He wielded his tiny little, shrunken plastic squirt gun with abandon, squirting a load of mayonnaise and yogurt in SteveDallas' face! Undaunted, SD answered by taking off his tighty whities without first removing his downy brownies showing his class A, Extra Large rosy red rectum to the crowd of mutant baboons who mounted him. His photo, obviously. excited all the wet crotched teens for miles around. But, wait! What about Albert's shoelaces? Were they wet or just stretchy? Perhaps both? Meanwhile at Jinx's place, Sundae was revving a stolen car to get away from her tormentor the insanely evil and cleverly disguised farting clown, Bubbles O'Leary. Meanwhile, back at the ranch several of the pigs were arguing "Four legs good!" which made no pork chops for me and my baby polar bear Albert. Remember Albert?
Later that afternoon Carl, Albert and George W. flew Airforce One to the Blue Oyster Cult concert in Germany @ Wacken Der Mule Off, and when they took the stage with HotPink leather the audience exploded in spontaneous human fits of laughter! Carl, Albert, W, It would take another lifetime to figure out what the hell is wrong with their big, huge members. Sara, conversely has the big vagina. And the stickiest. Sara was proud of her malodorous binbag of mussels, clams and shrimp But she hated her tiny bosoms. Saggy and drooping like old socks full of sand. That's when she reached down between her legs, eased back against the pulsating shower head and began to dream about her new cotton socks. At the same rate of pulsation, her treadmill would begin to vibrate causing her to gesticulate wildly and think about football hooligans, who disgusted their dirty underpants. Inside Big Brother, a massive fart resonated throughout the Universe, causing the unmitigated, superfluous oligarchy of Betelgeuse Central to fuck itself verily, thrice, notwithstanding two answers responded. So, henceforth... wait! -- Hark! The Harold of NottingsQuiltsChesire-on-Avon-by-the-Mer said "Methinks thou art of dodgy character and ill repute.”
Raputa! Raputa the braw bricht nicht! Good gracious me. A fartle, indeed was exuded from Woolworth's cafeteria when Angelina bent over and her knickers parted to reveal that she was not Angelina, but the famous transvestite, Fatty Arbuckle. Which was a a whole different barrel of monkeys. Fatty Arbuckle, meanwhile looked just like a fat man Al Gore in a stupid pose. "It's Pat!" cried a weeping whore gathers no moss on the north side of her left breast to right infected toenail oozing with pus. (here we go with medico lingo) Take her Mandingo! and slap her in her flapper in a wrapper. Like her papper used to slapper 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 NASA diapers left a gigantic hole in the budget. The next day, against all expectation, Carl's shirt was covered in skidmarks primarily from the treadmill. The plane was owned by Richard Branson but did not brown.
That's shit's funny said Branson as