Aneutrotic Romance

‘it is time you see how the elements of a nightmare can be used to make a d.i.y. superhero costume, son. leftover planks and nails and things can be used to make a swanky d.i.y. chicken coop.’

try to keep an eye on a smoking gun for 75 years. it takes a fur fly 75 years to fly through a forest of enlightened fur, then be the burst of gamma ray’s steamy exit from an ice cube. they work together like a family – they’re a team of veritable engineers helping overcome structural difficulties in the strangest digitized battle. they’re a family that raises classic cattle together, selling collectibles to raise funds for the deletion of scenes from the epic 3-d flop of the folk hero’s irreverent, jane fonda-esque workout. helping out at, and smuggling suspicious writhing bundles in rollable trolleys twice a week from, the terror baby institute. teaching the ramadan vampire the smarter, less wooden ways of eating an intelligent cookie. raising buzzing hell.

wanting their prey to look and sound like shit as the sag of insect bodies settles on it. strap on a good grenade with waterproof mascara so you can’t see its explosion. sweet marijuana farmers, back on earth after hearing the computer has died. back in the universe to resurrect the multipurpose big bang theory from the parking lot. i have a piano – to soothe the prostatic heartbreak. i don’t even have to feather-pluck the prostatic brussels sprout, with farm equipment automated like the greatest random genius/curiosity that can paint winter nudes while peeling a banana while tossing a coin into the zombie fundraiser. greatest curiosity! random genius! let’s hear ’em!

the clanking machinery of the 75 years that passed after she replied yes to the boy insect’s question of will you be my darling fur fly in aneutrotic romance? 75 after she replied yes to his question of will you be my darling fur fly in aneutrotic romance, the young runt, a year her junior, not yet inducted into the forest of motionsickness, asked the question: ‘will you be my darling fur fly in aneutrotic romance?’

she’d gone down the spiral of death and when reaching the tip, she burst out wearing a cardboard cone hat and such jeans the young runt, now 76 years her junior, would not have believed.