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LJP07

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PART 5

Orbsycli was very disconcerted when his bong started to leak. We tried to use duct tape, as a stopgap, but it leaked the putrid love we call brownies.

 

 

Sugar laden confections make me sick… as in barf, not like “fever.” This edible crime of passion illuminates how stupid people, and their dumb foot fetishes, will eventually lead to marijuana brownie binges. Prolific binges occur… mostly on Mondays… wearing saddles loosely. As long as a tight halter on a dwarf isn’t too tight, it can be quite amusing to pick up the dwarf by the ears and gently tighten the halter. It can also be amusing for it to stop.

 

GO!, barked the pistol, which was hovering above her in an elastic pair of pink domes which undulated gracefully in the Doppler ridden horizon. A strange sound emanated from below. It seemed to smell rather foul… a sound one could taste as a bitter vibration in the upper spasmodic region of the nose. These “tastes” were worrying the Jedi, because the Klingons kept clinging on to the cows, and their flatulent offspring… who had stolen the milk to feed young aliens in Klingon.

 

When I awoke, the sound of a snoring axalotl was permeating my sea of consciousness. I reached for my atlatl, but to no avail was I able to barter for my mates life… or his chi. So, instead I was forced to go find a magic bean bag, which can actually produce pheromones that attract a multitude of attractive females with red bikinis, and top hats with little purple tassles covering their brims. The liner, which is composed as a duet of only the highest notes, drives the fabric of warp and woof until it tears. Unfortunately, it also wets the head.

 

Once upon a time in Mexico played on television. It was a terribly, yet humorous depiction of Chihuahuas in whimsical circumstances. No amount of money could buy a true love, unless they’re on sale… or, just cheap.... cheap being my preference. A preference I prefer over the tawdry one-nighters I used to watch others have. Being a voyeur, I enjoy the view from afar.

 

Lloyd the llama loved licking lollypops during dreary days fading faint fast, becoming baleful blackness when weeks wane… But Lloyd doesn’t want to get another colostomy bag, because bloody bags leak their contents and attract some seriously nasty flies with big black pustules that seem to trick trolls into believing that they trust Tormod.

 

What? No way! How can trolls live lonely lives?

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