TUNG TUNG TUNG🪵🔨 that’s the sound of my bat slapping against your useless micro. It’s smaller than the stick I hold, boy. So small I almost can’t even see it. Did it shrink even more from shame? Good. Stay soft. Say it back to me, loser: “My worthless penis failed Triple T…”
METABOLISM CONSORT: Sir, it’s 2am. He should go to bed immediately
BRAIN DUKE: No. Make music sound good to him for the first time in three years
PENIS SERF : And perchanse a bonner,
I say, boy, pass me another can of that there "monster reserve", if you would be so very kind. Oh you know I don't cotton to that "pine apple" nonsense. A peaches n' cream, boy, that most honest and vivacious elixir. Only that can rouse me from this most vexing torpor.