Post Title: something about Dictators
August 30th 2008 23:29
The contents, happily for themselves, you will find, should you look hard enough into the mutter, are to be found here and, hear a pout.
"I puckered up and got smashed," you might say, if you leaned in for a bit of a lap-wrestle and tongue-suction but, got a clock in the eyes.
It is, if you should be so-so looking, in this manner that you have gone through your days - expecting fitfullment and receiving only this appointment.
"I was in the waiting room when my name was called out," you might say, as you were ushered away to see the Dictator by a portly nose with a habit.
The Dictator, a man or a woman dressed up to look like a man or a woman with his instrument dangling over his shudder, asked you to do as he says.
"At first I wasn't sure, but then he gave me that look," you could say, as he smeared his elected digits over your spatial places, without dinner beforehand.
The Dictator, your trusted familiar with his thinger on the pulse, will, if given the signal, put his cold and rubbery tool on you at the drop of a hint.
"I only winked at him involuntarily," you might say, if you had some neurological problem that caused you to itch and shudder and, wank at dictators.
Dictators, usually accompanied by piano, pieces of pooper framed behind gloss, and years of building a refutation, are beyond approach, if you're scarred.
"I puckered up and got smashed," you might say, if you leaned in for a bit of a lap-wrestle and tongue-suction but, got a clock in the eyes.
It is, if you should be so-so looking, in this manner that you have gone through your days - expecting fitfullment and receiving only this appointment.
"I was in the waiting room when my name was called out," you might say, as you were ushered away to see the Dictator by a portly nose with a habit.
The Dictator, a man or a woman dressed up to look like a man or a woman with his instrument dangling over his shudder, asked you to do as he says.
"At first I wasn't sure, but then he gave me that look," you could say, as he smeared his elected digits over your spatial places, without dinner beforehand.
The Dictator, your trusted familiar with his thinger on the pulse, will, if given the signal, put his cold and rubbery tool on you at the drop of a hint.
"I only winked at him involuntarily," you might say, if you had some neurological problem that caused you to itch and shudder and, wank at dictators.
Dictators, usually accompanied by piano, pieces of pooper framed behind gloss, and years of building a refutation, are beyond approach, if you're scarred.
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