MondoMudbutt

Jenga, more like take your wood and plug me up for free why don’t ya?

Simple dimples around coffee grounded cherry holes make for one delicious string cheese dessert.

This just in, flicked beans and wet dreams seem to mean clean excrement creams.

Come one, come all. Clive Owen boner jams now on sale at all regional Kmarts.

Finger me once. Finger me twice. Finger my mother. That sounds nice.

She doubled down on the brown town sound and found crown frowns wearing wedding gowns

I wore carcass clothing while boning and moaning the nonexistent stony pony

Aussie clementines for the lad on the butternut lizard. My brain's gone loose for the winter.

Thistles form isosceles triangles capable of trade wind navels and pat grade cables on double deluxe fender strats.

Where did it lie? Be it on gravel or stone, I'll find the hole and push in with all my might. Bend at the knee before assembling the snacks, we don't need anyone hurting themselves over a tasty chili dog outside the Tastee Freeze.

Be gone foul beast. Fly not to the East. My fingers went in. And then became your feast.

Hair fell. Milk dripped. The man's nipples were far from soggy, but the ghost appeared.

They were different times. I wish they were back. I fell in love with my sister. And that's a fact.

Marble Barbies are largely lethargic but hardly carve barley star Harley's exclusively.

Varicose veins pulse with the elderly man's every thrust.

Bathe in brussels. Engage my muscles. I've seen you once before. Drop down and give me 20.

Creeper sleeps on creaky peaks on Earth as it is in heaven. I shall not want, I shall not taunt the boy with green eyes and grey teeth.

Chicken feet, my dear boy, that is what will earn you a conversation with the Lord Almighty, Maker of Kevins and Smurfs.

Trickling water said the way to my father was through my dead grandmother's pigeonholed crawfish den.

Six pence someone's glitter might not cause a fright or shiver.

With liberty and justice and the musty crust of sexually transmitted butt rust.

So let me get this straight, your dad had sex with your mom? Weird.

He described my grandfather as flappy, soggy, and mildewed. He was an amazing doctor.

What would you do for a Klondike bar, you ask? I’d pleasure the polar bear. I’d extract the milk.

What if I had a Slurpee right now? That’s a good question to ponder.