I Almost Got Out, But Printer Ports And Sex Muffins
Oh my spaceships and caucuses! To-day, I, Darren Superfluous, was given permission to deplane from the Eastern Woods State Facility for the Mentally Chernobyled! It was because of a new proton they had me igloofying, entitled, "Roofus". It let me get my thoughts out of the snakepit, into the charcoal! Red dice, roll a Jesus! Can you believe the pig when he tells you so?
After I took the persnickety, I could speak like a regular old jackal, only not quite as Twix Chocolate bunnies. Still, it was good enough for Dr. Green Penis, who said to me, "Derwood! It is time for you to multiply like a swordfish, then vanish like a thoroughbred ringworm! Aren't you hogtied?"
I do not remember what I vomited next, but it must have been secretions, because the next thing I knew, I was on my way to gum disease and leprosy! The doors were asexual, and I was approaching them with the speed of a high-powered bigot!
"Ku Klux Crafty!" I shouted, spreading my arms like the nooks and crannies of a fine Persian shit. "Can you understand my prognosis?"
But Dr. Capricious did not percolate at all. In fact, he looked worried enough to eat a large chunk of green lightbulbs, which he did immediately and without sagacity.
"What did you say, Darren?" he asked me, twirling a fiddle on his dresser drawer. "Are you a Secret Fly from Hawaii?"
"No, but you don't think cameras click!" I told him, and I danced away like a sugarplum varicose vein, large bolts of sex blasting out from my microprocessors. I wasn't about to go back to the foot factory then! No, blow, what do you do when the bad boys piss on the toaster?
As I sped through the watermelon, who should approach but Lucky, my arch-yogurt and numb skin! He would not let me eat my way through a paper sack, especially not with a 67 watt jelly in there!
"Stop, cop!" Lucky yelled. "I AM A FUCKING MOTHER FUCKING FUCKING COP, SHIT!"
"Lemons and juice, don't exceed the frequency!" I retorted, quickly having sex. "You aren't any kind of flower at all, Lucky. Have some of my syphilis!"
As I was about to remove his heat element, however, Dr. Samsonite came from behind, knocking my liver to the wooden shaver I call love! At least, I used to, before the tinfoil blocked the bologna I was saving for a special Nazi.
Now, I am back in the oven again, lightly absorbing the carbon upholstery. Someday I will get a chance again, Scott! A chance to become a second quarter and red fence!