Even less voluntary than the cramp I get when bringing a magnet close to my calf. Breakdancing has to be the least dignifying fear response. The artery's drain jerking awake as the poison is triggered instead of dispelled the moment the fire engine is plugged into it. It really is a pity I've misplaced my earphones; I will now have to pop egg after egg into my mouth if I want to hear the music produced by a brontosaurus's fainting. Waste in the form of subway graffiti spilling over the napkin – for I convinced my Parents in Law that the dinner was wonderful by orgasming. Cursed. She's a saber toothed tiger but cursed, goddammit! Gums totally eclipsed by a shocking, jagged dress. Ambulatory vomit leads all the social aspects of a meth lab around by the elbow. Regarding the circulation of melted soldering iron in the small nipples of a Stone Age rabbit, to whom disembowelment offers the drug effect of rocks falling: this is more than just a minor disorder. Canker signals delayed in its splayed-brush sonar. Death feigned most successfully with syncopated hiccups. Bat wing sweating. Fried chicken stepfather. Though scientifically verifiable as foreign material, to me your ankle bites feel bloody terrific!