What on earth should I write about? Exoplanets? Xoxo (plan it). Love, that ooey gooey feeling. All mushy inside. Twitterpated with entanglement. Every song is singing just for you. Hugs and kisses. Kisses are a tasty treat. Hugs for Hugo. Wherever I go, Hugo. Hugh and his heavenly helper humans. Human cumin. Hannibal the cannibal. HTC and THC. Pot and harry potter. Potter’s daughter, in the water. Bought her. Slytherin slaves. Snakes who hiss at Satan’s sister, Sarah? Hatin’ Satan, and Lovin’ the oven. Devan in heaven at 7-11. Doves in love. Kisses and Doves, chocolate for the apocalypse. Chaulk and cock and caulk and doctor Spock talking about rock music, flock of seagulls, walking with crocs, and grokking mockery, that’s a lock to hickory, dickory, dock. Say what? Grab her butt? I will not! That is not what I was taught! What is right is to fight with spite against the might of bright whites who oppress and cause stress for ol’ mother Bess, who happens to be black, like Mack, who snacks on wacky pack-yaks, when not smoking crack, Jack. What the hell am I getting at? Bats and rats are as filthy as cats, and that’s a fact, Zack! Germy worms will keep you from coming to term, Herm. Unless his sperm was as firm as a Sherman tank, Hank, and I don’t mean shooting blanks. A spankin’ new baby is not to be treated like gravy, mr. Rankin.
Okay, that got out of hand.
What in tarnation should I get my groove on with? How bout how to win a bout? Protect your neck. Head for the head. Poke the eyes for the prize. Punch where he put his lunch. Either the belly, or the mouth, to listen to Smash-mouth, or to fell him like a felon by hitting his melon! He should fear being hit in the ear. His body will be impaired from beer. In a world of hurt, from grabbing your shirt. A pair of tears will put him in a chair, if you rip his sipper. Or if you kick his dick. Or if you crush his precious tush, with a kick like a brick. Pain to his insane membrane. Hurt his spurter. Smash and lash and bash where he makes his cash. Joint lock with a grip like Spock, not to be mocked. Poke him in his choker. Blast him into a cast. Throw him low. Kill his ill will. He will submit, if you’re not a twit. Be prepared, to make foes scared. Train in the rain. Master the blaster. Slap and zap adversaries to make yourself merry, and scary. Destroy them like toys. Shred them like bread. Inflict damage with a sick blam, or edge. Or strike with a blow to the toe. Spin and kick his shin. Make him flee or kick his knee. Break a finger, and do not linger. Break a jaw, and use your claws. Fight dirty, if you want to keep purty. A jab to the abs. An uppercut to the gut. A headbutt to the nuts? what? In and out fast, leaving him aghast. Cruel tools and brutal poodles. Bites that smite. Give him a boss cross. Make him rue messing with you. Make him chew on poo. Rip out his heart, and start the art of smartly putting him on a cart! Vicious and malicious. Spit on his tit. Blind his mind. Put the kibosh on his mosh pit, squash it. Have a need to make him bleed. Impact, that’s a fact. His balls, doll. You can tickle his pickle, or send his penis to Venus. You’re a mean machine. You can savage his cabbage. He’s just a speck, keep him in check. Remember your breath, to send him to death. Footwork to put the jerk, in the ground, sound. Ground and pound. Mud and blood. Make him sick with a stick. Splat, and that’s that. Like a bug, off the thug. Put the worst in the hearse. Give the crook a hook. Treat the bad like Vlad. Spike and Mike, head on a pike. Slayed with a blade. A shoddy body makes you unprepared to go there. Be strong, and do no wrong! Know some styles, and go for miles. A little luck, and staying bright, you’ll never fight. But preparation will prevent temptation. And of course a gun, hon.
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