05/11/2013 - COULD WE POSSIBLY DRINK THE LOT?

           Could we possibly drink the lot? They diddled the peach and let go of all movie treatments. I got a pair of educational projects strapped to the morning wood of a silverback gorilla. We made nothing of it, preferring to delve headfirst into hip hop topiaries. We left the job of imprisonment to them instead and that was ultimately madness, the kind that turns around the polarity of most Irish sideburns and makes a stolid mockery of nerdy poster makers. Stop right there: whilst most gay outsiders are safe from being made fun of, they still are restricted, severely restricted in their obligatory rights to say yippee out of European context. Press the button and just wait it out, that's what the pirate doctor always tells me. I think he gets seasick around seventy. This shit goes way back, beyond the littlest municipal aggressors even. I think they were cute in their own way but I could me misconstruing manky rugby doubles for hawkers. They want your arguments, they want to stuff them in their fresh fruity pockets.

            This calls for horrible grandstanding in the middle of an inappropriate synagogue. There is no pause for knee-slapping activity, as soon as moonlight splashes down on them the pixels change and revert to a smoother texture. They might even add a black glow around the suffix. To hell with the prefix.

            We are the normal people and we live for the simpleton pleasures, satanic coffee mugs and lonely winks. What do we have left to subscribe to? Ideals? Wide-eyed comeuppance? We've all been there, flung down in a hot mess of gelatinous probability and fed our own chance of death with a side of sprinkled refinement. The friendly aims live and slip around at the top of the stairs, acting as if they are privy to saucy doctrines that no-one else can even muse on. Off they flounce, the grappling hook mischief makers with their destiny in a million barrels that roll and even unroll when electronic devices are Yakuza. Can we tell terrible jokes if we promise them to be funny? They might even deserve a cold recording? Does this register for you?

            My squeaky noise will give me keen truancy options while I play the PC, attending to my tale of many bold options and the plastics that seems to surround them with fiery whereabouts. The spotlight returns and blesses the nether regions of crazy envelopes. It's the grossest shit in the world, in the office right now. The recycled urine takes vitamins to be put paid, even though it is entirely egalitarian in nature. Placebo effect happens. That's the best we can do whilst high on our own product. We all know that you do it too when caffeine doesn't pay attention because it insists on pretending to be a lock of a wild child's tousle. Any minute now the wind will pick up and transfer holiness to a thematic filth monger. The only way out is a wiener flopping on the ground.