THIS IS STORY (2)

 

 

Chapter 1: There Is A Wonderful Grumpy Teenage Axolotl On The Slopes Of Mount Fiji.

He was looking and saw a shimmering old man's bald head. And Axolotl screamed: "This fried chicken is actually a Conan O'Brien clone for real". Then, a voice replied: "Please eat me!". Flapping wings sounded: the eagle has landed.

 

Suddenly a dog came upon a bauble made of cum to which he stuck up his anus beacause he loved cum. So much can be done with cum. For example.. polishing baubles and lubing door hinges. But be warned, this isn't going where Jack Stencil liked to shove his bauble, but shove his shovel. "Hubble bubble" said Do You Enjoy. Do You Enjoy was a band of stretchy rubber that's important for elephantine sandwich making. Seven translations later we weren't even half way there although we'd gained a giraffe that a potato was fond of being a giraffe. Denmark decided that hair was enough of a distraction to permanently ban the gizzard lights but people rioted and stripped paint from Richard's tank. Meanwhile the farmers daughter asked "What you think of Banksy?" Cow: "Udder shit."

 

Four Tet then excreted his full secrete identity, burlel. Burlel said "pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffpoppfffffffffffffffffshhhhhhhhhhhhfffffff" and people cried.

 

 

Chapter 2: The (DAYUM, Was Going For An 'And People Cried' Repetition..) END Fisting Happened Suddenly Inside Watmm HQ Where The Light Was Pink And Slutty.

Fizzling sideways brightly, a forlorn pantaloon emerged walking by itself. Skrillex has arrived. And promptly fucked off without dropping the secret rdj tapes. The horses meanwhile were peering at the abyss, which bandcamp release was ignored. Seventeen pairs of (This is story?) pamphlets were distributed. Word t'your mother is that strangers were everywhere! Wielding cantaloupe melons! Goddamn fucking huge monkey people, running with orbs of fruit flavored sponge diaphragms and monkey-people DVD's were then used with great precision for anal poop based malarky antics and techno trance and monkey-people HJ's were not enough and then wept tears of sacrifice for the narcoleptic monks. And then I gazed upon 'The Universe Exploded' by Shia Labeouf. Diagrams appeared in Belgium. "Wait, what?" he said, and then a chrome sphere was born.

 

Sunday in Kazakhstan was the first of eight Michael Palins to stare into his gaping soul and expose the sweet nougat centre. Pissed pants camping is underrated because deer like to fornicate amongst the sinners whilst camping in pissed pants. But enough about Ray Mears. Everything is a goat simulation. Upon realizing this everything died everywhere. Except the Vatican.

"My dick hurts"

"Stop fucking Sarlacc"

"no"

"Down Syndrome Porn" said the Pope (he'd gone insane)

"But what about the children?!"

"Dick in ya" Said Spiderman. Also, he squinched Innuglia like there's no tomorrow. And manila envelopes filled with glunk aren't even filipino but definitely Mexican food is best. When eaten anally it's not better than or equal to ludo tournament night by international squidphone or monkey-people DVD's. I should forsake Jake the Snake and his merry sodomites who like cherry-COLA slowly getting older and die grossly like my Lola who had ebola cuz we made love-ah. "Please follow sentence structure", said usagi the grammar rapist nightmare man quietly two weeks hence. Words were jumbled because of eldrich, horrible Grammargogototh. His mouth was an asshole, a babel-sphincter, spewing seductive madness.

 

Meanwhile, in Japan, Slim Shady walked into barricaded containment area and then his mouth turned asshole-y as you'd imagine. Suddenly Freddy lifted a finger to hush the absurdly over-endowed barmaid, because he was fucking fed up of her stupid rhetoric and comspiracy hysteria. Her titties swung like pendulous... shit, pendulums? Shit pendulums worthy of gasping with your asshole-mouth. "I know riiiiiight?" said Freddy. "I'm too sexy for this asshole-mouth, too sexy for this... what's with these asshole-mouths, anyway?". Watching The Pelicans Circle (his indian name). The guys from Pelican conquered deterrent cynicism. A wild Snorlax appeared so watmmers readied their anti-Sup lotions and ointments.

 

Slim Shady left the bar in a small eastern european hatchback and rapped about his asshole-mouth while working on his new album: "Rape God Part II: Electric Boogaloo". Until he fell off a cliff and died rapping about Kim.

 

 

Chapter 3: There Is A Greasy Asshole-mouth That Refused To Stfu Re: Asshole-mouths, How Poopy They Are.

Then Eminem rose from the dead and... soon thereafter died again. Meanwhile, in Burkina Faso businessmen started receiving a strange email saying "Hong Kong Midget kills 4 30 year-old insurance agents with nothing but harsh language and good looks. Bill's head was funny from an old sports concussion and Down Syndrome. He ran the Down Syndicate". Turns out Bill was the killer Midget, and brother of Eminem... terribly, terribly logakght~ suddenly appeared randomly on everyone in Burkina Faso's... Little old lady hooch. They then, gathered and said "Take a fucking timeout, Limpyloo". The crowd was stunned and Chinese, so, so, so, sichuan. The igloo was smelly to the touch. As was then the fashion. And then God said "wubwubwub" before the limpy motherfucker broke his other leg and bought a new one and inserted it into Pafr. . Upon reflection, Pafr relented and enjoyed the leg within him (limbless inner child notwithstanding) [no pun intended] Flow, run, wended. From the distance came a great [the child within: named "Gunt"].

 

Gunt was a peculiar child, some say he touches the void [aka his asshole-mouth] with fingers covered in cheetos powder. Gunt licked his Cheetoh fingers. His father was using ableton like nobody's business. His new track is called: Rotted Leno Machine. That's a crap name dad! said Gunt. "Fuck you, I'm DJ Dumbledorian The Creationist, Master Of Square And Sine, Protector Of The Magical Four-Dimensional Croissant. My snare drums are actually kick drums. Venetian kicks shifted three octaves westward and on result in 96khz digital vinyls made of steel. It sold on discogs for three potatoes and a llama that spits acid house dub techo. "Techo Techo. Is there an echo in here?", asked the jungle to the tree to the phone to the aw-inspiringly perfect government dog. Yes, this dog is responsible for matters of international diplomacy and intergalactic monocle deliveries. But his terrible secret always weighed heavily on his flank and scruff because the secret IS.................... indeed, terrible. So terrible that

 

-"oh my god!" - interrupted Sir Picklesworth, Earl of Wandsworth, Proprietor of Chutney Manor in Slough. He continued his posh interruption: "What manner of secreted darkness lay putrefying within thine bosom? Lays? Lies? is lying? Oops. Anywho, howst hast thou Holst's Mars the Bringer of War Impregnated into virgin shellac in spiral formation?" Dog answered these questions thusly: "wow. such. very." Picklesworth, head tilted: "Oh, you!" Suddenly, a floating shopping list revealed the dog's secret: Alas, it was almost illegible, except for the part about how once, twice, three times wait for the Drop. Wob wob please help me win money. The dog had humped Skrillex and vice versa. Secret revealed.

 

 

Chapter 3: The Earl Watched In Awe As Right Out Of The Dog's Ass Left Handed Desperados Maintained Silence And Released The Great Worm.

- The worm had the face of Scrillex. Out its clitellum oozed Joyrex. "Good god! I would." And he did. So much didding Joyrex did that he wore out his diddums. "I can't believe my favorite artist is using ableton like there's no more dicks on earth. How will I ever normalize my body temperature?"

 

 

Chapter 4: In Which Our Hero Tastes A Bird, A Smidgen Of Pigeon And Wonders Of The Orient.

"Butter my arse"

"Pepper my cock" , said the whore Jeremiah Picksworth-Snog.

"Not fucking likely mate", said Sir Lindsay Horehound-Clit, dusting off his hands and standing astride Augustus Flatbottom's ample, jovial belly laugh consortium truck. The truck was roadworthy and upon its bumper was writ, so much writ and trucknuts that only a large little person would combust upon beaks on his titty teats with. So anyway... Dear reader, I'm off for a shit. BRB. Why the fuck did I eat myself, I disappeared literally up my own ass into the Stomach Realm. Armed with only very foul breath, the stench of rotten semen and a shit cannon that was grim and frostbitten and erotically rusty, notched with previous kills, doused in warm virgin blood. Biggest camper ever perched beneath my rectum beverage (abbey ale). I sprinkled myself with icing sugar. (as instructed by Def Leppard) ((ass written by Aerosmith)) I started eating the future sound of Big Bang Artichoke Breeds, alas Bongo And The Feminist Second-Wave Hot Dog Vendors did not approve of all this cis-scum and briny maneuverings in the mist. Therefore RIOTS! TANKS! SAND! CHAIRS! CUPS! Showaddywaddy spoke slowly in reverse about LOVE! AIR! NAILS! ANTS! kcoc evol I ecaf ym ni sllab dna ǝɔɐld ǝɥʇ sᴉ ǝɔɐds puɐ. And then he pooped his Jnkos. He bought them-... Wait. Who is "he"? ["this is story 2" becomes self-conscious] [modifying the rules:] Read the rules. Read the rules.

 

''He'' does a shit. It's not just his bowels he's unloaded into that 2 bit dumpster. It's his soul. "He" said: "5 words max". Okay, but don't call me max Soz dawg. Max Soz Dog felt sad and then happy hardcore was blasted into the nuclear love site of the Boards of the BBFC, who will fuck everything. That is, vigorously thrusting thier toothpaste tube making machines and other fruits into the ouroboros rectal cavity located on his face. Max Soz Dog and his assface then made an "erection connection" with elder Neanderthal Smut of China aka "Tre Boneworthy" his rap alias. He rapped about his cute uncle's horseradish farm his plentiful yen, genital piercings, undulating wildly for sentences that make sense. All the time every day, in every way play with clay down by the bay- suddenly everyone died because a giant dildo fell on thematically ominous piano keys. Drama. Suspense. A cresendo towards

 

...but then Gunt woke up , ruining cresendos. That jerk chicken flavored dildo bounced off a hill of plastic cheese ensepulchred in ash. The dildo limped asymmetrically ramming every cram , nook and cranny. It rasped like an old crusty asshole-mouth. "I need orifice" coughed the dildo gelatinously spewing globs of milky spittle out of it's rubber soul before spreading his asshole-mouth completely shut and emerging from it's chrysalis. Yet he was given very little consideration by politicians in general. However, politicians in general are ignorant of a metamorphosed dildo's needs unlike common folks who understand it's inner beauty, its desolate soul's melancholy, but again the paradigms involving dildo tentacled octopi caused the extinction of all dildos.

 

Slim Shady. Kanye West. Gordon Ramsay suddenly joined watmm and posted about the dildo extinction and gave his scallop recipe: 20oz of GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY KITCHENs, and a REALLY WRINKLY FOREHEAD! made a rich broth oozing with suppurating brie which suddenly manifested some scallops. Ramsey looked @ scallops and said "I'M NOT GONNA BLOW SMOKE UP YOUR ARSE!", but blow he did blew like fuck and sneered sarcastically at the balloon he had created. "Wow, you're a great balloon...", Ramsay said uncharacteristically. "You useless fookin' twat." Ramsay said characteristically. "But I like you because you cook a good Penis souffle.... doesn't mean that you aren't a cunt. Now excuse me while I beat off to pictures of Ellen Degeneres, while aiming at your philtrum. Fucking annoying little shits!" he finished sialoquently. Like he never finished before. This poo is cold, said Hot Poo Bear. Poo-warmer in hand, he turned on his poo-warmer.

 

Chapter 5: Meanwhile In The Clark Subforum Bitchez Be Cray Cray

Wheelchairs were skidding ecstatically as they were gleaming the cube and compressing tha fings to crazy Turning Dragon-levels. "This shit is Iradelphic" said Clark while clockwork braindance guardians danced maniacally to Penultimate Persian. "Touching his genitals softly the lil-lol-flil-flol-flel machine laughed heartily and did unspeakable things to move the plot forward", Said Ruining The Narrative. "Aye, I hurt me eye!" But My Eyes Weren't Real, nor are mirrors! Lol, he laughed, excreting twelve adopted children in bloody rags all aptly named: Ruffnek, Cru Step, Babbylon, Nightcore, logakght, and skrillex, Ray Purchase, Steven Toast, Cliff Promise, Elvis "John" John, and baby logakght and I An I Babby DJ Wrekkit Pon Dem Boombaclotz. Together they set forth toward Mordor. And so, the journey started, little johnny farted Ruffnek departed, pretty sure he sharted, molesting all the children and was put on the sex offenders register. And then THE MOST MAGNIFICENTLY LUSH PADS done a paedo fanfare to the tune of 'cunt in a strange city' vocals by Phil Collins, sequencing by Flashbulb, lyrics by Burial: ""Like dis if you cry everytim / bae caught me slipping the hot beef injection / staying G'd up into the early, un-lubricated, hours of Hawaii on Mars. / give it a shave girl, right between my toes".

 

My favourite things include: chocolate bars dunked in bathwater, drinking chocolate dunked bathwater, with a side of maaaaaaaaashed pooooootaaatoooooes. LimpyLoo re-enters the thread, he finally dropped the fucking assholemouth thing and shut his stupid asshole-mouth right over the This Is Story Timeout Chair cuz y'all can't handle this new t-rex cock bought from bad-dragon.net with 53 billion Coinye's. He then stared longingly into the eyes of the demon and wished he was under the influence of Bath Salts and handfuls of lavender biscuit cat treats. That's a lie. He really counted to twelve and trepanned a vole. Fucking vole, tired of your charms, yet powerless against them! I unbuttoned her tail. Fucking fake vole , I better take a nap.

 

Suddenly, as if by magic a god created life time members forum. Chen they called him. Chenforum was filled with seven unique chen babies, three chairs and a stick, who registered under the names: Beesus Faffoon, Bruce Foresight, Titti Dum-dum. The chair's name was Nigel Chen-Chair the third, Chen's illegitimate half-chair son from a former marriage to a chair he fucked sideways by a washing machine whilst drunk on gasoline hair shiny with brilliantine feet shiny with puke.

 

3 or 5 words? No. ONE.

 

Meanwhile in the slaughterhouse the cows were dancing to Jazz drone-core played through the nightmare-machine hooked-up to my moon-phone making collect calls to the rings of saturn. "Lick my vaaagiiiinnnaaaaaa!" Said an astronaut. Through a megaphone shaped banana to nobody in particular during a syzygycal alignment with Grimsby. Nigel the chair grew despondent and so decided to discover the true nature of asshole-mouths. Limpyloo, you are trying my patience. Cease now before something very bad happens to you. 5 words, Max. (I'm sorry 2WV...I'll leave). The mermaids were out again laughing with their normal mouths, thithing with a lisp, teaching numerous shellfish tactics and jazzband-facepalm-fart'ing tennis moves. Timothy Dalton replaced Brian May. Who is Brian May?, asks. Freddie Mercury, who was off on an excursion to get his brain removed by an expert brain-removal guy. Anyway, now his brain is removed. So how about we get down and boogie to the tune of a hundred bucks each for services rendered, which are: Fellatio. Also a regular massage. And chinese water torture under tightly knit circumstances on toasted artisan granary bread.

 

A fly in my soup and a pungent aroma of alpaca nether regions has set the neighbourhood alight and done wonders for my complexion, however Ellen Page's delightful gayness came of no surprise, of no surprise it came and went quite quickly, thus surprising no-one. Well, except Gunt. Who shat his pants upon witnessing the incident and committed seppuku, thus creating shatpuku. And causing a fuss on the high seas. Squarepusher decided dad shirts were no longer OK so he opened his cupboard and took a robotbands, took out his Dick Cheney polaroid picture, and took umbrage at people questioning his umbrage at people questioning his collection of shaved wild animals. Twitter trending ensued: #dogperiod #taxidermy #nohair #swag. Twitter exploded killing approximately 14 minor celebreties and their assistant's sex life purse. A Sex Life Posse decided to purse appreciation and new release speculation also died.

 

Sting was furiously masturbating to Ly masturbating a goat, whereupon a CD of farmyard sounds suddenly started playing on Sting's guitars. Humanity was doomed while Charlie Sheen was winning for being the 1,000,000th visitor at the bingo hall in Lancaster. Suddenly; an orange guinea pig appeared! To be fed with mescaline and liquorice, dressed in chicken skin clothes and subsequently deep fried. The waitress didn't care that Sting was raping her natural resources because he finger drummed On (µ-Ziq Mix (Kevin Costner remix) (of Bat Out Of Hell (Theremin Reworking)))). Eddie Murphy fought Kevin Costner softly, all the way over hate-speech samples and industrial hip hop beats set to 13/4 time, their glistening limbs thrusting rhythmically' s twelve.

 

 

Chapter 6: An Exercise In Touching Small Boys On Their Mouth Parts, The Dental Region, With A Greasy Silicone Spatula, With A Bouquet Of Wilted Thistles Stolen From Mcdonalds By Winona Ryder An Crack, And Then, But Not Yet Then Soon Thereafter And Hence Forevermore Thereupon... The Small Boys Closed Their Mouths And Opened Them Making A Loud "THWOP", Striking Bronies To The Ground , Or Were They Normal Ponies? Only Gunt Knew.

But anyway, where was I?.. Kevin was bleeding furiously ... I clutched the knife... panic... TENSION! SUSPENSE! DRAMA! "Oops sorry, too much me, I'll take a break" thought Sting as he sipped some tea. Does Gunt have a mohawk? Maybe it's just a fauxhawk, decided Whoopi Goldberg, who just chanced by a delightful little summer cottage made of chocolate stout bottles, exclaimed she would always love chilli-dogging Ellen Page. 2058 is the code she'd been given by a vagrant smelling vaguely of parmesan, coriander and custard cream biscuits. "Holy fuck" screamed StephenG, who appeared suddenly and , dressed in illuminati regalia, proceeded and a stupid fucking bowtie with legs walked over and said "My Bronie licence has expired, gief extended bronie license, fedora and friendzone included lifetime membership plz". Various flavours of pie were exchanged and the IDM mobsters and semen guzzling scenesters gaily pranced around a non-euclidean bush with testicles the size of watermelons, discussing hairy ball theorem.

 

"Oh my GOD. Run. It's Paul fucking Rudd!" Paul Rudd exclaimed to himself and Thom Yorke conversationally, then promptly peed his pants. And decided he would never read FACT again. 2 unicorns appeared gradually over the course of 7 meals, starting with an appetizer of braised prawn face and gently-rustled jimmies and ending with death. Oh and dog shit fondue. Anyway, Hitler was busy with baking cookies in his new cookie-baking spaceship. Suddenly BCM pranced inunbuttoned his shirt, revealing Compson. Hitler was most delighted. He licked Compson's oily forehead, then he fuhrerowed his brow and declared emphatically, "bow chicka wow wow". And slowly took off his disco shoes and threw them at Gunk, who was somehow nearby. Gunk felt he was cismale, but Glunk, his female twin and Gunt, the older twin brother to Cunt (the ugliest of the four twins) recently disfigured by disco shoes, all identified as genderfluid. (Genderfluid on the disco shoes) felt he was by far the coolest. 'Initialised The Spaceship For Cookie Overdrive' was a song he wrote for Hitler performed on 18 kazoos by Squarepushers robot band from the wrong side of history. Maybe the fastest Kazoos in a 2 meter radius. The lyrics made Burial cry and went like this:

 

Scooby dooby dattle doh.

Here's is Johnny so let's go.

I got serious problems with

People who can't use a sieve

to de-bug ketchup

 

OH YEAH!

 

Baby, Baby, Baby, Baby, Baby,

5 babies in a cupboard

Squarepusher opened the cupboard

and dropped the bass

Etc.

It was never recovered.

 

 

On the other side of the world, a special baby was born. "Do you need debt recovered?" Were the baby's first words. Born to be a legendary salesman and a reluctant ales man. He always wore sunglasses made of lead, too heavy to take off, too cool to touch, too leadpoisoned to live. He lived a short life. Radiation resistant, but short. In a specific Irish Pub wear the beer tasted like piss, where darts were thrown and worn like the beerpiss. Where kings boiled baby's bottle to sanitize it from the devil whilst listening to Val Doonican try to rap Coolio's 'Gangster's Paradise' which was mastered by Roachford (Of Cuddly Toy Fame).

 

Trent Renser's marinated left bronchial tuber was definitely pickle and jar worthy which took prominent display in the book of mormons alongside other works of art by Sean Booth's Mother and Ellen Page's heterosexual friend, they all depicted a donkey riding a dock leaf dockleaf in watercolours and dockleaf crushed with cochineal dreams. All the forgotten artists of the Byzantine period aka Fred's Island for Misfit Toys gathered and sculpted a giant (the) dong from the ashes of their Sherlock Holmes style pipes and made love with indifference. Liv Tyler finally decided to confront God. She found his hiding spot: Then decided it would be just like God not to be in her vagina. A state of bearddom Vagina. In the state of Bearddom. Starring Dennis Quaid as a dockleaf. It became the new dubstep with beard queefs as theme ingredient, and massive hurdy-gurdy drops

 

...

 

from Kirsten Stewart's perspective, this new genre should be called Rob FordCore. Which involves drinking Red Stripe and snorting money and falling over a lot of trash thrown on the ground while MCing brutal dancehall forever. "Raasclaat!" shrieked the MC as he smacked the dj with a lyric sheet inscribed with binary code and urine. The stench caused the DJ to play some Tiesto to a roomful of dead bodies. Shackleton used an bongo. The dead loved the trance and melted cheese cheese cheese onto a triple decker grilled cheese sandwich with cheese and cheesy peas encrusted with cheesy fleas imbued with the power to breed more cheesy fleas who prefer Siamese if you please. And squeezy cheezy peas and sub-bass wubs most suited for clubs and Rihanna's cat chubs. Rubba Dub Dubs was the name of my foreign ex-girlfriend.

 

Meanwhile, halfway up Mount Everest, another Starbucks was opening its pores which oozed vile coffee secretions and shitty music like The Brit awards might do. "Oh shit my face has fallen off" Tweeted Kurt Russell from his favourite Starbucks coloured queef blanket simulator. And still, everybody smelled cheese. The main character doin' the locomotion

 

 

fig. A

*edit*

Damn PC crashed. Carry on up the Khyber sucked the Miocene epoch. Creamy vestibule of the magnificent ego satisfaction projected on jumbo-tron, the Calcium Fractal Prince. The Prince formerly known as Shub Niggurath, god of tasteful politically correct jokes baked in a giant afterbirth.