last time I don't know why either just stop.
When I touch your face. It's like that. I'm gonna keep working on this. Eh, fuck it.
I
went to some place in Vermont to study business. I put it on the
windowsill. Professional posing. Thought that was cool, super-cool. Just
writing everything right now people. My partner's middle name. Scott
talked about it briefly, the window looked like a cream ball. Putting a
one-fifty or three hundred to wrap around.
I'm just trying to solidify what we're doing. It might hit his head a little bit, which would be good. Eddie knew that it was nice diffusion. That helped with the fight of the sun. I want smaller lines and bigger hands, taller nines and cigar bands.
Pop-pop. That's the kinda shit I'm talkin about. Scott prefers using two instruments, instead of getting into a notebook. Ten shitty pages.
--
Today there was no desk. How long will it take I followed the old man up to the second floor of his yacht, like a saddle on a donkey. They were drinking myself for a drink. There were three women in skin-tight tights that hugged their asses like a saddle on a donkey.
There were three women in skin-tight dresses that were like saddles on donkeys insofar as they were hugging their bodies. Unlike and not to be confused with the way a child hugs its mother, or as the way in which a mother hugs a donkey.
Then there were two donkeys. They were hugging their mothers like a saddle hugs a child. I was going to slap him in the face like a mother unto a child, or a child upon a donkey.
The mother's name was Janet and she owned all the donkeys and children. The saddles were the legal possession of the donkeys but were stored in the closets with the children.
Eddie wouldn't like this. He ordered him to dance far away inside her mother
--
I rode him like a child rides a see-saw. Children rides see-saws for fun and for pleasure. If you see as I do, the fucked up metaphor. We have an obligation to unite against him. But how to do it?
I know the bite will be strong enough. I told them to try it. We're right here. Pretty green spaces told me that I would be back with a dead hooker. And a strong arm would think of the separation. He's gonna get big one day.
Thirty-two hundred kalvin is what the lights are balanced to. We looked around for some clothespins and a compact flourescent.
He tried to tell me he was just a baby. Just a baby? I can see that!! Did he think I didn't know that? What a fucking joke. I'd fuck his ass so fast he'd fall right off the see-saw. Let's see who'd be hugging their mothers' donkeys now, heh-heh.
Dammit sloth! You're in the movie, don't cha know in Minnessota I'm not gonna fucking read this shit. Where the fuck
--
could he be? I don't know. Then he put his hand on my shoulder and told me everything would be okay. He was a donkey and his saddle hugged him like a child's mother's child hugs his mother.
They put too much inside so they had another thing they did without people on pot smoking too many fucking cigars full of the universe on ecstasy writing a book about the history of time and the theories of people who weren't alive two-hundred years ago when everyone, for the most part, was dumb and sick and poor and may or may not have been working in a factory baking bread and shit.
How about that fucking sentence. I'm going to write another one pretty soon. Just you wait for it. Eddie will love that fucking shit. I'm gonna take you motherfuckers through time and space itself, fucking everyone's mothers.
A new pen is being used by his roommate to make the things go better than when Julius Caesar got murdered because of his
--
friends inability to not kill people who are all in charge and shit like those low people that look like sticks and read numbers like the lie of basic two and other shit. Not worth my time to do all of that bullshit. I didn't tell him because he didn't ask.
I used a different word and there was a take it off what. There's this metal stuff that I don't like, sounds like fucking Dr. Suess or some shit like that. How incredibly awesome is that thapping sound. As if. Does anyone really think that's a word? I doubt it.
I seriously hope this asshole with the camera is joking. Does he think that it's all okay? Does he? That's not even close. We're gonna write some stupid shit.
Dick jokes. These get old really fast. Older than a one-hundred year old Cuban pankake. With the same letter twice. Eddie's not gettin any. Not over Tim.
He's wide open. And I'm inside of him. Sung and snug, both of these things.
--
and why would there be shit on my dick. There's big black stuff all the fuck over my dick. That makes it next level.
Can't argue with that. Who says I wanted to see anything? There's no way to know. I know I don't not like it. And it's gone. Woot-woot.
Why can't I do it myself? Why can't he do it himself? Why can't they do it themselves? Why can't she do it herselves? Why can't we do it ourselves? Why can't it do it itself? Why can't you do it yourself?
I think I covered everything I was going for. And I did it myself. He did it himself. They did it themselves. She did it herselve. We did it ourselves. It did it itself. You did it yourself.
I'm on a roll. I love this shit. And why not just do this shit. Nobody even gives a fuck. Don't remember to forget. Don't forget to remember. Part of that shit didn't make any fucking sense. but the other half did. So that wouldn't work.
--
and so that was the end of that day.
MONDAY
This morning I went into my cabinets and all there was for breakfast was drugs. So I decided to eat crack for breakfast, with a side of scrambled crystal-meth and a glass of apple juice.
Does that make me hardcore? Fuck yes. That is what drugs do. They make you a fucking legitimate fucking bro. That's why you do drugs. It'll feel great too, but that's just a plus little bonus thingy.
So then I wass all fucked up. My apple juice tasted like heroin and semen from concentrate. And guess who's too short to operate the camera, heh-heh.
That shit gets me every time. "Can I touch him," he says. As if he can touch me. You can't touch this. That's what I'm talking about. So I was on my drugs and drinking my apple juice and I was in the bathroom to brush my teeth. My toothbrush has Yoshi / from the mario games. That's what I use to put my makeup on. You know what I mean? It's not fucked up, so don't call it fucked up. Instead, we should have sex.
When I was done fucking my toothbrush in the top of my mouth I ate you and he was yelling really loud. Shit got fucked up and we had to be people with tan shoes. Cuz that way we don't need to wear socks.
More writers? Fuck that mother fucking bullshit. We need less fucking writers and more drugs. Did you hear what I said?
Fuck you, I don't need this shit. Andy fucking samberg doesn't have shit on my fucked up dick. There's shit all over my dick. I got a fish in nit, and that's where the smell comes from, so if you tell me I should clean it then I'll fuck you up.
Have you ever cleaned a fish. I hope not because that shit would be harder than my fucked up fish dick when naked people are around. So then we weren't going up the stairs with that person and there was a really big fish dick at the top. It was mine.
--
I'm writing in cursive again. So get ready to be fucked or killed, whichever is less fucking painful with the size of my fuck dick.
I'm not a disk so don't put me inside of shit where a disk wouldn't go. Did you get that metaphor? If not, let me spell that shit out for ya: I only fuck boomboxes and computer towers.
Poop will eat you if you don't have your wits about you, so shut that fucking door and get ready to be fucked up on some cocaine. That's right, my dick is made out of cocaine.
SUNDAY
Right when I got out of bed I started throwing up small irish men and they were complaining, and, I told them to fuck off because I had enough of that fucking shit.
So at school my teacher decided to go outside and be stupid and talk dumb
--
was a little bit soft but it still pleasured me. I actually like soft, but if you tell people, the I'll fuck you. But only if your soft. I only fuck the softees, if you catch my meaning.
All of the colors of the rainbow filled me up like a balloon in the thanksgiving day parade. That shit was hard to write. Tricky motherfucking letters. But either way there are lots of colors in my pussy.
MONDAY
Today is monday and I can't fucking figure out what to do. I might just do drugs. After all, it is Monday, and I enjoy the drugs that I like, and I do so pleasantly enjoy studying plants while I'm fucked up.
After weighing the factors, I decided to be a turtle and eat my own fucked up shit. I eat Mexicans for lunch. Do you kon beep llama.
Shit got fucked up, but I think we all had fun.
--
Fuck them. The all had flabby titties. She had hair and they all saw her boobs because she was really, really drunk. He made it terrible by fastening all the velcro.
Jesus was not even as cool as me you motherfuckers. That shit doesn't make sense to me. He said he wanted to write a book with me. And I was all confident and I was like, yeah I'll do that fucking shit all day fucking long.
Jack and Eddie are the weirdest brothers. They're cool, I guess. But they may or may not be fucking crazy. That shit is off the mother fucking chain, my brothers.
Have you ever seen that movie. And does it even really matter? Who could know? Not me. I keep telling you this. I'm like Abraham Lincoln over here. And nobody even gives a fuck.
Now his hair looks fucking cray-cray.
--
I'm a cartoon character. You'll never be able to be like me. So fuck y'all bitches. Nobody cares about a girl making that sound while she is putting her mouth around the camera.
He had a ponytail and liked to waste their time of day. And lots of things like that kept happening. Crazy ass shit like that. Like what the Joe fuck.
Should I be down here? Where on Earth should they go and sit down on a pillow bed?
WEDNESDAY
Today he told me I was funny. Funny? I mean that was some flattering stuff.
So we fucked.
We fucked a lot and had lots and lots of sex and intercourse and then we cried a little bit. I love crying in a man's arms after we fuck. Does that make me weird? I fucking doubt it. So fuck you. You guys suck.
--
He told him to fuck his own face, then was yelling about some shit and flipped their shit upside-down and was reading the fucking thank-you materialist douche bags.
Guess who got wet? Everybody in a directly straight line in front of my dick, that's who.
If a single Tyrannosaurus rex walked into my kitchen at half-past eight, I'd give him a sugar cookie because I got some for free last night. Did that shit just blow your dick like a lady would.
I'll fight you with backwards ass letters and fuck you all with this ripe-ass banana. So let's do this right now so we don't get in trouble people.
If that makes sense to you, then it won't to me, so let's fuck some fruit like a horny monkey who has sex with things he or she eats.
Don't listen to me! I'll fill your head with lies, and shaving cream
--
These fuckers. These fuckers don't even get fucked up everyday. That shit doesn't even make sense to me. What am I saying
I feel dumber now. What the fuck am I? I'm the fucking dick on a boat crossing the ocean without a body. Things are going fucking great. I got wedged in some dude's locker for the first few weeks and spent a couple nights in a butthole.
Anesthesia is spelled wrong but it makes me forget things. That blows, like a fucking siyonara bouquet that some bitch gave away at a wedding. Fuckin' bitches, they don't know when to stop. Like I'm supposed to fucking know when to throw the dude into the shark's mouth. Fuck you.
That was fine, but don't fondle me if I'm grabbing my own ass. Don't rip it. Nobody wants that, so shut the fuck up and get me out of your asshole, I gotta cross this ocean.
It's been a few days and Eddie hasn't told me why his asshole has a small farm in Kansas in it with a nice old cow named Bessie.
--
always write in cursive. Still take longer for anyone to understand what is actually going on in such a consistent method of writing. How dare you disturb me during my slumber. This one makes me and the audience more curious. He could be covered in little trees.
Like a monkey or a banana, the tape was working too well. We were totally about to lace. That would've been awesome. But nooo, the cow said we couldn't. Fucking cows. Always wanting us to not lace.
He's trained in acting so that his shoulder would perform to the utmost quality. They told them to wait a moment until the people from Texas would do the focus on the right thingy. Would there even be a thingy to focus on?
Nobody is sure of the answer. Who could know? Not me, that's for sure. Do you think the twenty-three and the focus is or is not hyper hippo joking. Say what? I didn't even hear the information they were trying to tell me.
--
Lots of people took showers. The year was nineteen-seventy-five and everyone was naked and doing the Mexican hat dance. That thing looks like a person who is not eating a fish.
Someone said that it sounded bad but it actually didn't look quiet. Playpens are for trapping that kid in the corner.
Then there was another cow talking to a donkey, telling us about hos the saddles were hugging their mother's monkey's saddle.
They are firing everybody up in this motherfucking bitch. Soon the sound will be sound and will be perfection. Stop reblogging my shit motherfuckers. He's a lion mama bothering that kid by changing what the course would elongate his neck and this dick will never cross the ocean.
Everyone told the dick that it would never be able to cross the ocean. But guess what? The dick didn't give a fuck.
--
So the boat was gonna leave at noon.
THURSDAY
Today started at about the time were the bad things started to happen. Did anyone notice? Did anyone know? I don't think so. Seems like nobody cares anymore. Time to leave this place. It's time to bust out of this fucking body and cross a motherfucking ocean.
That's what I'm talking about. Going across that motherfucking giant ass sea.
Have you ever heard that song called detachable penis? That's some shit about me, my brothers. I swear to you that I would never have wanted to leave my body if it had a potential to cause any bodily harm.
That being said, with my body being unharmed, I knew I could leave and be on my lonesome. And if I could do that, I could successfully crosseth thine ocean.
When I reached the docks, it was low
--
tide and the entire beach smelled like the innards of a human feces inside of a fish.
The red room belonged to danny lloyd from the shining. Who could know? Not me, not you, not nobody. Your mother wouldn't even know. Why? You know why. You don't not know why. Nobody doesn't know. Do you know what I mean? Because I am not really aware of what exactly I was talking about.
The boat was sailing. But only in the future, so I still had a chance to get on board. I hopped onto the dock and loaded myself onto the poopdesk. And by the poopdesk I mean the poopdeck.
Who could know? Not me, not you, not the other dicks around the port city.
My dad isn't a phone! So I slapped that bitch all up inside of her left tittie. And she wasn't too happy about that shit. I would love
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