Carnival Patrol meets Carnivorous Hole!

Hello Weltlings!
I've got a slimebomb for you: I expect the last race down to the sausage factory was a good one --- I'm here to tell you it may be your last.

Can I welcome you to the crabs family? Let me just say a certain pincered specimen has been branching out to Davidian proportions in lieu of carnal retreat (a la swarthy-monge), reaching far-reaching hellos here and there on that grimy urethrren floor.

Should I place the hand? Where did your hips go, fatso? Recently, we're officially mad at the worldwide girlfriend coalition for not sucking the spinach and keeping below 230 pounds as promised after the last crushing.

Ho! Have I crawled all over your lardo politesse? All I can say is this: You are an unpardonable whoosh of sissies, tromping in the the stench of girlhood.

I've being keeping out of the story bowl as of late. You might have formed your own Russian pinealopinions with late night television cooking shows, but hardly a feat, greylords! I can crush a mouse! I can salt the very last earthbound mussel! My hands are a relish of Polish sauces that your dreams must wank up over! The slow insertion into the oesophagus is no laughing matter... It's demoralising! Try an energy gel! I can defeat you in several mouthfuls of water.

Coast to coast? Where will you hide? Last race to the sausage factory!!

Patients Launch Bad Blood Suit

"Now shalt thou go home, and let dig up thy husband, and take his head and bring it to the blood-suit, and say to him thus, that that head would not have weighed with others the taking up of the blood-suit after him, if need there had been thereof."

Candy said she wotted not where these things were coming to in the end, but she saw well enough that they spared her neither labour nor heartburn. "Yet even this will I undergo," said she, "if thereby the lot of my foes be made heavier by way of wet and bloody suit."

Thereafter she fared home, and went in about this business as she was taught in all wise;

Arnkel said that he had said before whereto his mind was given to the suit.

Therewithal Thorgerd drew from under her cloak the head of Vigfus, and spake: "Here is now a head," said she, "that would not have tugged on from taking up the suit for thee, if there had been need thereof."

Arnkel started back thereat, and thrust her from him, and said: "Go," says he, "and say so much to the kin of Vigfus, that henceforward they waver not more in their help against Snorri the Priest, than I shall in the leading of the suit; but so my mind tells me that, however the case goes, they shall lay land under foot or ever I do. But I see that these thy doings are by Vermund's counsel; but no need will he have for egg-suits."

Fetid Plasticene Fistfuck Antelope!

(Figure A: Retching Facist Cumstained Skidmark.)


Scrotal phlegm backwash soup. Extra resistant windpipe shears. Fangmasher, maw-clawer, ethicor: the guarteed ethics remover.
Quartered shankshift creampie face-stabbing fencepost badger beaver. Rancid skunktwat cantelope-slicer crass mouthbreathing geriophile chigger-breeding causticism. Relenquent varicose veins shunting the umelated tungsten steeled businessweasels.

(Figure B: Skewered Cuntlip Ballsmash Felchfest.)

Hormuncular jabber-jawing MSG-addict crotchpost. Sanguine puddenpelters suckling the bladed teat of the half-million dead-leemer bankrupt-auction. Agency. Acid-burn massage croquet ballmallet asinine tepid bellicose trashsucker. Seething pantysniffers muck chew cokburn. Washout, fuck your cow in the brain with a five ton asshammer shitsucker.

Allow me to introduce you to my fellow Hamhocks!:

While it is a well known fact that drunk asparia are the most likely to cause tears in the intestinal area during 'Shaloqua' births, the most fundamental facts are overlooken:

• The pig are not in the scape.


• Thee wife are not on the house.


• Mittens.

It is this file point that makes it scarf everworthly: If mittens are themselves some cosmological sentient being, then how is it that we are all standing? Why, if the 'mitten' do have this power, do they not char and destroy the molesting hands of we humans? It must be more snuff-n-loc, surely, but sad that these discussions persist into the early 21st century.

I would also like to take this opportunity to reply to the rash of steam-burnings perpetrated on me by local children wearing said mittens. Often, I hear a knock at the door, and answer it, only to be greeted by a gang of pint-sized hoodlems who quickly overpower me and hold my face over a traveling bunsen burner and a small pot of water for a most uncofortable time, but my lungs have never felt so fresh!

Exercise the cheeks immediately!!!!

Sorry, answers so soon, but I just hardly obtained your mail about what is important to know about the bedside manner. So I want to use extreme care to avoid spilling or splashing the acid solution? It can destroy pajama and burn the eyes and mouthes. Lastr night I started and wear splash-proof goggles and protective clothing (gloves and aprons). The face shield is necessary.

So recently the girlfreind can weigh 30 to 60 lb (about 14 to 27 kg) so I do safe lifting and carrying procedures to prevent back injury.

What do I do if I splash the battery acid in her eyes and mouth?

1) Remove ice-skates immediately.
2) Flush immediately the eye(s) contaminated with cleaned up water.
3) Avoid the direct contact into the unaffected eye or onto the mouth.


O yes, first aiders, hello! I also have rinse off the girlfreind well before removing them. Then rinse the apron to remove the battery acid that have contaminated them. Last one I inspect for defective liver, corrosion of the thyroids, cracked spigula or glolutus, loose hold-downs and deformed or loose lobes. When treating the thyroid condition we discover the explosive hydrogen mixture in her leg, unfortunelly. This morning, while laying on her tummy, she was bringing both legs up under her and try and dig in with her feet.  Closer inspection reveals the smaller hydrogen tumor congealed by the bedside!

Please exercise further the checks above for bedside maintainence.

Sincerely,
The Dutch Glove

Welcome to the whole unfathomable army of snakesmanship juice!

Hey dude, I hopr the rest of the party wrnt nice. Sorry i couldnt return the favor I went to the techhno party that was m,y other option to say howdy and a happy new year to some fine folks. Unfrtunatly all the women at your party were better looking. I'd like to have the opportunity to introduce myself to the back of your bosses knees someday! Anyhoo spent all night gyrating to crazy lazer gun disco grrooves found myself in a very red bar somewhere dancing with a girl called Iffanny (!). Last night I dreamt I was playing "the Evolution game" with my sister in my Grandmothers living room. It involved rolling a dice to determine how many generations forward we could evolve. Once rolled a sucession of evolutionary step creatures would morph fronm the carpet which we would then use as stepping stones. Some of them were a little unpleasant, mostly insectile and spindly. A real beauty was a cross between a spider and a lobster, with a succession of poisonous spines instead of eyes, a pink carapace and old mans rotted hair. Somehow it got loose from the board and crawled over my grans face! (with hilarious and unforseen consequences!) Hows the sunrrof? Speaking of evolutionary steps to dust incandesent perfection, thats a nice route to take ne?
Probabvly the best.