No, no, no, no. Yes.
Maybe.
Sort of, probably, Betcha- even odds.
That ain’t rhetoric, baby, that’s philosophy. Well, it’s philosophy the way that Cheetos are food; you can eat em and though they might kill you it won’t be from starvation.
That is such a babbling brook of bubbling bullshit you’d think I’d almost be on the precipice of having something to say. Ok, maybe more like sandy bank than precipice; still --- something to say n shit.
Yes, yes, yes, no. I’m smoking horehound and lime ejuice; I’m not a reliable source. I really want to build my own atomizers, if I cave in and give it a shot you’ll know by my absence. Not just absence from The Box, but from this whole pissing match, this vale of tears, there will be just a crispy crunchy haredawg outline like those poor bastards in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I don’t know why they were making their own coils while we were dropping a nuclear bomb on their heads.
Horehound and lime, motherfuckers, horehound and lime; I am not a reliable source.
If that babbling brook of bubbling bullshit was going somewhere, well, it’s lost now; I ate the map and gave my homework to the dog.
Be nice to one another.
And I’m spent.
Loading comments...