Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Girls, I’d like to introduce you to the winning smile of myself. Myself, being Chauncey Stacy Turnbuckle. You may have heard of me. In fact, I’m sure you have. Why, I’m the sultry, debonair, owner of the Timbertown Dudge dealership where if I can’t sucker you out of more money than you can afford “I’ll eat my own shit”. Coined the phrase myself. Women, you’ll be pleased to hear that the same lips that my own fecal mattress pass by are available to as many as are interested. That’s right. Now, I may have Summer Teeth but I assure you that tumble from my word faucet will have your little mind as captivated as if you were at a Saleen Denon concert that you wont even mind that your tongue is going to flicker over several holes in my face if not just outright gums. Your mind will be my plaything. Excuse me for jumping to conclusions. Do what you will. You ladies have your own thought ideas, but know this, once you smell the eat items I procure for yourself on the hood of my marmot’s pustule you will know then that it’ll be time to hang our ornaments by the chimney with glee. Our whoopsies will crush all other momentary loves you have had in the far future and galaxies will shatter in a multitude of inconsequential beheadings. Far be it for me to toot my own nibble-naggle, but I’ve been keyed into a fortune of manly hood that must be passed on with you and you daughter brothers. Scribes have writ in cave holes this side of the prairie that this man, son of Preston Tracey Turnbuckle-Overstructure has a drive. That drive is to set you, my small-brained woman, on firestone. This is a several time engagement that will remain ongoing far past a length you can stand. Take a chance. Call me. If not, I’ll call you. Give your home numbers over to me along with your home unlockers.
Posted by Cat's Crotch at 2:28 PM