Over 16,533,330 people are on fubar.
What are you waiting for?
Another fine collaboration by
Joemangi
&
Brandon the Mighty
It was during one beautimously pleasant chigger-infested afternoon that I accidentally wandered through a rare and consequentially quite moist hyperspatial sphinctor gap and immediately found myself stuck arse-deep in a Megabelchian Prolapse Pit, which was filled to the blistered pimply rim with bubbling metamenstrual clit-spittle vulva-slurry, and though the hot wafting odor was certainly tasty, I knew it was only going to be a matter of minutes before a dastardly rowdy chowder-weasel would notice my presence in its private frolicking grounds and try to make a cozy little home for itself right in my hairy turd-hangar. I had to think fast in order to avoid this horrendous and damned uncomfortable fate!
Without the support of my Dyno-Prismatic Jock-Coddler, I was completely unable to corral the tenacious cosmic back spackle energy that was pouring voraciously out of my antique bagpipe vestibule. I suppose it was only logical to assume that without a safe container in which to store my ultra-holistic frog-butt staple-gun, we would all soon be nipple-deep in the incestuous festering pool of prophylactic nasal dribblings of the once Mighty Brutius Maximus, the Bullchacho Spasmic Peter Monkey.
One thing I hadn't taken into account was that the new Glory Glory Vomitorium Holy Temple and Puke Pavilion was open 24 hours and had an exciting promotion going where if you finger-diddle your scrotafiddle in harmony with a spastic goochnog pizzle-marmot's hauntingly beautiful mating groans, you will receive a brand new maximum strength corn-encrusted ultrasonic moist towelette, absolutely FREE!
I fervently believed with all the dangly-bits of my being that this would be the key to finally defeating the legendary kilted ginger-bearded whiskey-golem, Liam McHonkydildo, at the upcoming Gravy Lord's Grundle-Surfing Competition and Ice Cream Social. That Glorious Golden Pud Trophy would finally be MINE!
Had it not been for my deep connections within the dark, seedy underbelly of the infamous International House of Pancakes, it is likely, NO! I dare say a CERTAINTY that my tenuous grasp on reality would have been utterly and horrifically shattered like a rum-drunk virgin's delicate hymen by the mindnumbing presence of the world's most deviantly diabolical super villain....... Bob Keeshan!!!!!!
That fat bloated sack of narcoleptic panda-shit had long been the bane of my very existence and even with the tremendous power of my Scrotal Buttflap Inoculator, I would be hard pressed to survive long enough to attend the next weekly meeting of the Grand Poobah's search for feline impotency group.
