Two Exquisite Corpses

 I walk down a corridor filled with statues of stoic looking animal heads and underneath each one a plaque lists their works and deeds in highly pretentious language. Below a particularly distinguished looking deer head is engraved the words: Here lies a man with seven flies underneath this great beast I surmise this sleeping man and his squirming friends were caught in a dream warmed by the fuzzy fruit of flying fly friends its too shot through he says just before the end advances nearer to the throbbing trainwreck wolantz caused by scented sea lions. How economic downturn razed the bellied beast of billionaires from haunted Haiti's hunches burst a horde of lemmings haunted by the ghost of a politician who had recently committed suicide when he suddenly decided one day after a dinner with the opposition that he was not bipartisan after all, but actually a solipsist. Upon finding himself dead he naturally inhabited the animals which which he had felt the greatest identification with in life, however, the lemmings were greatly displeased because they hadn't bothered to consider the fate of the small smiley smooches they had received from that golden temptress. "O cruel love!" They exclaimed to the world, their tails twisting ecstatically, tongues whipping up and down in violent motions of simulated intercourse without recourse. These meek beings had subverted themselves and their herdin unquestioning obedience to their emotions, to their unrelenting desire for cunnilingus. SLAVES craving raves, dazed and depraved. A tall steed approaches the spatio-dynamic limit clefting his energetic body from the Raptured rupture of the Cosmos. The veterinarian withdraws the needle from the horse and slowly unpeels a banana, revealing a mushy, light-yellow oven mitt from Trader Joe's. Insider information leads the preacher to proselytize and prophecy and profiteer. Thousands of elephantine dreamweavers form a fine riposte of quiche and motor oil. I raise one goblet to my limit.
"Go... Ponyta!"

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The intoxicating scent of dates and Jordan almonds filled the nostrils of the man who in an opium-colored stupor was ready for food or death, but then he decided instead that he really just wanted more opium and so he went to the store and bought some poppy seeds to grow, since he was the most patient junkie in recorded history. 

BASFDGRA; level 17:

"Nothing you say to me will lower my HP. I'm like fucking Tony Hawk, just keep goin and goin."

BUTTFACE, level two, casts PETRIFYING INSULT. still, frozen and unable to move his opponent empties his bowels in a gesture of complete submission. The putrid, steaming mass of shit formed the shape of a perfect crescent, six feet wide from sharp point to point. The faint outline of a star could be seen alongside the shape, though to all except the Christian fundamentalist preacher standing above it the meaning was unclear. In his shining mind a whirl of turbulent magic erupted which simultaneously enlightened him and gave him a forceful aneurysm that splattered his brains all over a group of school children and attracted a murder of crows which pecked out their eyeballs while they frantically recited their ABCs, gargling snowflakes as if they were ping pong balls discharged from a "cooter."

A waiter is a wanker when he takes orders from your shoulders, which normally don't speak but this particular waitress likes to imagine talking torsos who promote Roseanne through witticisms aimed at "How is babby formed?"