Diarrhea mirrors daily individual misfortunes on Mars where like mere IBM-tissue set in glue dolls do fossilize and the red thirst fuses individual death-hiccups together in one long death-bleep as if through a terrible space rictus of exquisite poop geometry sounding like the hard shell of a UFO scratched with toenails and raising the very cat hair on the backs of gray and dying stars.
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Sodomy can sear the holy mountain rollercoaster-shaped.
The leisurely teen Jesus naked selfie Lego conglomerate borders on friend zones with evidence of having been introduced to wearable tech by Tony Hawk, as had its live and more popular counterpart, Mothman.
Don't sext me bro.
Sure, can't hear shit over your loudass ass-alarm.
Pedometers go berserk at pedophiles.
The FDA is just that fun place where Dr Who's self-loathing associates with tweedy metamorphic masturbators who literally end up swimming in the same pool of space-time lobster dysmorphia eventually.
All night, buoyantly, Smithers interacts like a sexless muppet leaving mosaic bitemarks everywhere but grows a weird harmless penis happiness like a mutant snowman's death and gnaws on LSD to peel Dr Oetker up in the pussy and with the unholy tendencies of a micro fedora floating through the living room on the head of '80s Putin pumps through the aorta of a Jurassic fly and vomits (lots of) pee jam and frustrates titties with cabarets of retarded brain projection sheathed in underground vending machines ripe with old wool-eating robotics only '90s kids would remember.