The whale’s blowhole was stopped up again. She’d ban using lots of Nasalcrom (™) but, the darn hole just wouldn’t unclog. Well a rhythmic thrusting of the old johnston should fix that right up. Pleasure was all mine. I was fascinated to see the different sizes and shapes of their penises. There are 2 ways to find a husband and I have been told that this was by far the easier of the 2, the other required more skill and dexterity. So bing a cowardly and stupid type - I opted to dance around like a cow with a venereal disease while I held my nose. “Damn that stinks!” “What did you eat?” Boiled potatoes, fried potatoes, baked potatoes and mashed potatoes Lotta lotta food and then, a lotta, lotta food - I will stuff my face and eat until I have no money, no nothing just my fat belly and me, we make a happy family. Look at us! Look at us! We deserve your undivided attention. So - pick your position. Snort it up your hole of choice, and think of me.
The skanky curls of my massive ‘fro had managed to get me in the door of the most exclusive agency intown, it was me and my hair. That damned hair. I had done all I could to get the fucking thing to lay flat over my nose but the little bitch had a mind of it’s own. I’d considered plucking it out clean from the root, but don’t forget to lubricate before hand. Otherwise you could harm yourself seriously. “Phhphht!” Was the sound her ass made when she sat on the toilet. It was the only safe place left in my house, the green-pus mold had found it’s way into every crevice and corner. Where, oh where, has my little lamb gone? I wanted to keep this secret for my own reasons. But I’ve expected less from dumber people - so, you should be well prepared for my belly antics. “Are you ready to be mastered by the muffin?” Are you a slave to the doughnut? An addict to that fried dough high. I could feel the grease pumping through my veins and I knew I was complete.
Every morning I leave for work the man/woman transient sits on my neighbor’s steps eating garbage. “POOBAH! I have mastered the art of communication and the fruit of my endeavors shall bring wealth to my ancestors.” At the temple of the large wooden heads, I placed 15 chicken livers. “To the wholesome and very kind idols, I give my gifts!” My request was answered by flaming bags of poop that were beginning to erupt from the ground. Millions of people were splattered with dog shit. Boy I have never gotten over the luscious livin’ of livin’ large in the times of yore. Hey-oh! Hey-oh! Daylight come and I want to go home. But I have no home. Some say I’m homeless - but I prefer the term ‘domicile disadvantaged’. That just wasn’t going to float my boat. I needed a life preserver on the worst way. No way is worse than the worst way.
