Actual update.
updates with pictures are so stupid.
there's no thought required.
however, minor complication, i have nothing to update on.
i hate everyone at school. except tash. not that the 1 or 2 people who read this care.
so i'm done. done done done.
no
updates
ever again.
goodbye.
there's no thought required.
however, minor complication, i have nothing to update on.
i hate everyone at school. except tash. not that the 1 or 2 people who read this care.
so i'm done. done done done.
no
updates
ever again.
goodbye.
17 October
BATTERY!!!!!
Hello chums, here we go a-fucking-gain,
IT IS TIME TO SPEAK OF THAT WHICH IS BEYOND MANY THINGS! BATTERY!
But wait, its more than that! Its a fucking truck battery, full of lead things that look like giant pokemon cards and once containing the very Blood of Christ: battery acid. Once upon a time battery was just that, a big fat truck battery inside quite possibly a truck, when its parents had a traumatic breakup and its father bashed battery's mother to a festering, throbbing pile of used alluminium. As a result of this battery knew it was THE HARD SIT and hit the streets, living behind the cage on none other than the broadwalk beneath the cliffs of the Story Bridge, one of the hardest cuntholes in all of the southern hemisphere, it made a living from satifsy women by forcing itself inside them through their vaginas and into their fertile, succulent wombs. Many a walker-past would wonder at why a woman would be writhing in pain with an exposed cunt and an odd recatangular prism protruding from her belly, but in battery's life, they are insignificant. As his income eventually deteriorated over time as women would go seeking the greater thrills of truss violation from the birge itself, so did the acidity of his acid making it an acid much less acidic then the previously acidic battery acid.
A few months later, whilst recylcing its last circulations of Co2 in the atrmosphere, two complete fuckwits came along and noticed it's lonesome carcass-like frame sitting behind the pimping cages of the broadwalk. Without hesitation and thinking of the agony that it would bring, the two fellows leapt into action, anarchistically jumped the fence and rescued battery from certain obsoletion in the ravages of matter's routine motion (time). As the huge cunt of the two fellows effortless and painlessly carried battery back to the relative desolation and ruin of his own dwelling (hahahaha dwell, sounds like something homosexual turtles do).
Henceforth, battery has made many self-discoveries that have led to his future development as useless industrial appliance, including his experiences skateboarding down a hill in the suburbs he once called pussy whoite cunt cribzorz, loving ever bit of air that it cant breathe because it's a closed in synthetic piece of obsolete. Share the love, share the decaying lead, share the battery.
Amen.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment