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Gertrude always bought her plums from the corner market on Wednesdays. A dog shit by the sidewalk and we all stepped in it. “Alas,” the Wicked Witch cried, “pickle juice cures the most broken of broken hearts.”

The skies turned black as the storm rolled in, capping the mountains like a widow’s hat at her second husband’s wake. The horses in a field nearby took to running as the streaker approached. The grumbling came first from his stomach and his ass soon followed.

French cheese, minced cheese, where is all the good cheese? A stream of steam flew from a geyser near by as the doctor spoke, “Now that’s geothermal activity.” The hippie started to panic as his car began to smoke, “I don’t have enough carbon credits to cover this disaster!”

Let’s Wang Chung! But, he is not shaken by the shark attack, because he eats his Wheaties. Clutching his gun in hand, the killer asked, “Do you know how to turn the safety off?”

It spits urine like a xenomorph spits slobber. Why I found myself by the beast’s dangling parts, I’ll never know. But, I vowed on that day that I’ll never draw my sword against my native soil again.

With anal fissures as deep as a canyon, I vow to shit in private. Throwing punches and pocket change, Henrietta kept the ducks at a distance. “But, until we can cover our losses, we’ll have to give you a long vacation.”

The windshield burst into flames. The vibrations of the bus always wiggles my kidneys. And, that was the first time I fell in love. We’ll never meet another like Frank Frankfurtz again.

One bead of sweat ran down my ass crack. Shivers, quivers and leg vibrations. Is that how a hyacinth smells? Wiggle worms and trouser snakes.

“I fucking humped that mattress into submission,” the man told his mother. “I wiggled and jiggled, but my pants stayed put.” The lessons learned from this day could be applied to my golf swing.

Oftentimes, Mary can be seen staring blankly into the sun. “Have you ever seen the dark side of the moon?”

“Termites are eating my prosthesis,” cried grandma as she poured Lysol on her pants.

He was once known as the best fluffer in the biz, but that was before the meat pie accident. But, every time I lean back hard in my office chair, I can hear a roar. The Call of Cthulhu sounds more like a butt trumpet in a hail storm.

We washed our hands and face of this matter. The walls were strung floor to molding with the contents of yesterday’s colon. As the pup gave his last, desperate thrust, we both sat down and had a smoke.

I often rummage through my wife’s hair, looking for grubs and lice. I threw lime on her grave, but the wind makes it miss entirely. That was the moment when I “accidentally” rubbed butts with the prom queen, and she didn’t mind at all.

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