in my ripe teenage years, i challenged a rival lover to a duel, and when i drew my flintlock to fire, it failed to discharge. the only time my perpetually dysfunctional penis fired was when my godmother manhandled my infant body, dousing my head in the baptismal font. satyriasis.
i trudged into the local corner shop. "bossman, you look like shit today" was my due greeting, as usual. "when do i not?" i answered. i bought myself my first pack of haribo tarantulas out of curiousity and another pint for the sake of it all
have you ever tried walking without your eyes open, drunkenly sensing anything you can possibly feel without a semblance of touch? i was almost hit by a moving volkswagen golf swerving the corner— i, unaware, tempted fate. jesus and mary chain ��� cut dead blaring in my earphones