exquisite corpse cb dw ha

As clocks chased the African princess through the streets of Babylon, I stared and laughed at the spectacle, having been a fan of regicide for the cause of time pieces for some time. "Pause for the cause," that's my motto. As for Elveen, she masticated his caresses with the obscene grace of a grown walrus tying the shoelaces of a toddler with ivory tusks which gleaned as if made of the souls of a thousand dead stars... Geriatric jerry, his friends gave him the endearing moniker, monitoring his levels of cholesterol and catheter urine napsack decided it was imperative he join the Knights of the Old Republic (KOTOR) forum, populating with oozing-with-zits, masturbating-to-tits twenty-three year olds who had found the role-playing game as appealing as Lewinsky found Clinton's dick, as elegantly as a pack of 10,000 dingoes gently pirouetting across a stage full of statues of 10-foot octopi. "Oh darling look! It's donatello's mary magdalene!" jerry slowly approached one of the statue, writhing and undulating in his rascal. With one left hand in his pocket, he grasped for change, but found only his cock, which might earn him money in a more conservative, morally upright area (where libertines abound) but alas, he lived in Portugal, where the welfare and legalized drugs trained citizens to behave as if pursued by flocks of deranged herons thirsting for bales of prophetic signs, nirvana, the escape from Samsara. Geriatric jerry, in his infinite wisdom, sought enlightenment through the act of gently placing his head in an oven. "A true martyr," the chimney sweep stated ever so earnestly in a matter-of-fact tone...