Oyeputa, wind gargle through, pronter Peter and Judas’ cock crowed thrice prithistle thrice! Me carcass sways the nasador o’ the gosling—so dulcent so swift so suckle throwt me prested-woken’d yarble. We congesterize, we attendrate. Aye, say ye, Detenance! Strem and scream and helter skelter. Aye non, me says, poot your civimaggot away to rot and pointandpoint follow.
Wont thy scuchmachine to chinwagin me, yon the babe gosling (UUUWK kweouk UUUWK kweouk?) roasts sur the cripplecrappletendercackle and we setten. What changley! What soft in my delanted orificicles! Aye, my syphilized yarblebling does get festive with the—What soft in my delanted orificicles! Such real oheeyass I feel! I feel such real oheeyass! Et aye, my sweet, such I feel oheeyass that to me feel real! The yarble biggenwidens with the What soft in my delanted orificicles! And you say, no, only sight of thy devested carcass biggenwidens my yarble!
Alas, sloot or worse, filthy barbars, cutehooren! Ye devest me and I quillenly attendrate my dulcent so seeckle gosling. What perversion! Do not ye put your touchers where your cock is, save to the odorant o’ the gosling. Aroon to everything ye ole feel the stream of the gosflesh slither between cranklycrackly separations, it chauffates and hesks, rubs its pileless cuticles inside your corporice. Excitance. O threetimes he crowed and ye cease the lubbed toucher on your yarble.
Switch to the gosling and the spuddass ‘til eve, facile facsimile dodo himily. No more ekhling—no more touchers where the gosflesh does it! Jazzled oily, calmen and prepared to the squirt.
In Other News
"Modality modality modality modality modality modality modality modality modality modality..."
"Soon, sweetheart," cooed the 54-year-old professor's mother . "It'll come sooner if you fall asleep."
"I personally find it to be a very spiritual journey, as I pass the same Olive Tree Deli and Columbia Barber shop my forefathers passed years ago."
“This is Kimiko, my waifu,” said the Dean, switching tabs to a hi-res image of a scantily clad, huge-eyed vixen with gravity-defying breasts.
"Coach kept telling us, ‘Guys, you’re a damn talented group, and I know you can win games. You gotta stay focused on winning! Because if you keep losing, you’re gonna know the sting inside my spanking tent.’"
"Something about those cute little faces just gets me going about how much better public torture would work out than our current broken justice system when considering the utilitarian calculus."
“It’s just so unhealthy,” said Jablonsky, whose grandfather trekked across Europe with just two potatoes in his battered rucksack to catch a passage to America. “Too much saturated fat. And, oh God, the salt.”
"In an increasingly interconnected world, we at the Office of Global Programs are hoping that a trip up to Union Theological Seminary or down into Lehman can be reframed as its own rich adventure!"
"I thought it was frankly irresponsible that the tour guide failed to mention even one location in which my son could find himself bucking the wild white pony at 3:15pm on a Wednesday afternoon."
"His previous experience transporting souls across the river Styx to the world of the dead was eye-opening; he is just impeccably qualified to take the reins of our institution’s cherished nursing home.”