||[Jan. 30th, 2015|07:02 pm]
When your wife’s terms turns your stomach.|
We serve brains in a clear brain sauce.
The first time I came out my grandchildren accidently sunk my yacht. The Cleo.
The first time I came out I was on a beach staring at The Cleo explaining myself away to a Captain Ron impersonator.
The first time I came out there was sand in my shoes and I had to smack the soles until the snake crawled back to its cage.
The first time I came out I bought a hot dog and didn’t appreciate the vendor’s comments.
The first time I came out I airplaned back to see the brothers Barthelme to also ask if they’d quit gambling. We had tea.
The first time I came out was just outside Mississippi’s border and Kentucky looked squareish and promising.
The first time I came out Allah barked.
The very first time I came out I had all the money in the world and had nothing to do without. Cocaine was too hard to get.
The last time I came out I bothered a brother for change and he simplified my exercise program.
The first time I went back in I was asked to leave.
The first time I went back in I threaded a needle on the first try.
The first time I went back in the dart I threw hit the bullseye and I was blindfolded and everyone cheered.
The first time I went back in I drank a large glass of cold ice water and got a killer headache.
The first time I went back in I came out and the Weblo smelled the difference.
The first time I came I was a Weblo and shit the bed.
It was my father’s hand-me-down.
The bed was an object. The sheets were counted as two, above and below, and sucked up my cum.
The bed was a small place, a twin. An identical twin to stick my dick in.
I bled my brother harshly and kissed his eyes asleep.
I came out and found my son’s wedding ring.
Pipes upon pipes dressed their wrencher as a blinging bail.
I can find you out of jail if you give me a fucking second.
When you love blood it’s gonna get on your hands.