“Today I quit Miraclewhip, and dropped said tiny math apocalypse’s black specter in front of her house – a faded toy snorted fat by fire.
My karate corpse – my pink universe covered in dinosaur acne – housed in a homoerotic Castlevania hybrid – think Tron stabbing Elton John; think Barbie’s fatal bestiality fail.”
Deeper into masturbation-darkness, Krang turns up the medical fumbles, sews chocolate into a miscellaneous banquet of garbage demon diaper and Smurf-amputation collated through the movements of his thighs into a photo-realistic depression.
“My large bungling exobody, though, my church, creeps like hell in a wife beater. It is the missing airplane of a car chase. Let’s just say it puts laundry collisions at the top of the list of dental dangers.”
Face mashed against the glass house’s wall, whispers: “Well today ET jostled some bitches on the bus with his enormous exomuscles – in legit alien darkness, the very fabric from which his satanic body is cut, weirdly.” Winks.