Mr. Marquis likes “Mista Salads” at Colatina restaurant, when taking you over is the game of my offering up a golden cup, a Chalice in Wonderland!

Growing and loaning my “Cish-Cash” to the homeless, who drink their swill at their own will, and hungry for some Mc D.’s burgers and a Coke, before they buy crack or smack to the uppity citified clits on those homeless boomtown bitches with no Bitcoins, laying out their loins, panhandling for coins, stepping on the gas at the measly attempt of washing a windshield of a homely taxpayer wife, oh she is my life, my wife, my queen of 2-lips and roses for the mostest of the household, in a lonely, crummy shack, so without a panic-attack to strike fear in my heart, disregarded antics, with the Boston Celtics, scoring free-throws after a demonic foul of one playing b-ball assaulting the opposite team, the opponents, of my proponents to prophesies the pity of a man’s glory in the Holiest home and hole of a woman, by her husband, in the single spot where the baby plops out of the womb to one day lay in a tomb- I’m not “stoned” like those who’ve committed murda and sin, without my fucked kin, amassing stock in Tesla and Tokens of crypto-currency in the this current age of – say what, say what? – my ewwy-gooey plasma eye-socket sebum letting out the tears, wearing torn gyms and jeans of working out, if you know what I mean, with perspiration emanating from the skin, a heart pumping RBC “blood” to drip out of your lower lip, from an upper-cut to the jaw, you gnaw?

I need a new job to jerk the Apple Jacks with Justine’s brother Jake who was premature and little, like Dan grew with exercise, my stockbroker- a member of my family, like he LIED TO ME !!!!! “Jeff, Bitcoin ‘tanked’” when I said “BUY MORE!” As I implore my mind to make more money than the many moneyed men, signing off finances with checks, signed by a golden pen, shivering with quills and chills of my alwayschillen dot-com thrills to behold the gift of a graphical-templated temptation, a photoshop “template” on the website (1 or 3 dot com’s!) Nagasucky-sucky bombs of the chicks, the Vietnamese Chinks selling their sex to Vietnam Soldiers solied solid footsteps on the treaded terrible Earth’s surging surface, but not the Treadmill, dis-used by me, so LAZY, to take on a tan with the heated bulbs some Circa “Salon” where the sailors come in from harbor to honor a short hair-cut, while breathing in the air, some hairsprays smell, like flowers, so all is well at the head’s hairs requiring a trim and cutting off the foreskin of most babies in this country, known as “Circumcision” my stance, with the great Lance, of LIVESTRONG, when I wish they made athletic thongs for the young girls of the world to wear, showing them off, pulling them up at the waist, slutty girls have the best taste, but only after they brush their teeth, a la whitening toothpaste, with a cooking turkeys to baste, as this is Thanksgiving when the Pilgrims landed, drinking their Brandy, while beaches are so sandy, occasionally a choice sea-shell stolen from the waves, I once knew three “Dave’s” but one died lol he killed himself, as I know one other bad “Dave” from his dot-com bulletin-board with a shitty following of screen-starers jacking it to jam the Man’s traffic tractor-trailer tumultuousness as Gilligan was distressed with Mary Anne of the boat, too, eating drinking coconuts and acorns, the S.S. Minnow passengers were scorned, scoring goals in hockey with the Goalie, protecting the Protestant onlookers who have their own lives’ goals of massive riches, getting the asses of bitches, out of it- drunk to a tizzy, while the bartender is so busy, with “Tiph” but only IF, I get my way (with her!) to show me the door once I’m all evaporated with an E-cigarette of vapors and the aftermarket rapers of Aunt Jemima and her “Slavemaster” with a white-skin whip and a subtle “quip” when it’s time to quit, the painful whipping of Kool-Aid and fuzz with a buzz in the carbonated Cool-Whip topping as the crack smoker OD’d and is literally frothing, with spit, like this is it, as you’ve gone too far, taking in too much of the drug, you need a hug, and a kneed in the nuts for smoking stinky butts on the edge of today’s esplanade, I can’t explain, I need no pain, to motivate me, my stroking, I’m just joking, a joyous exclamation of the the properties of bacon — bring it home, the flesh and the fat, when that’s that- it’s all you get as the older-population is bereft of years to come in God’s Creation.

I love God more than you, and He allowed me to reach beyond Him at the edge of all space (seriously, in bed after about 4 or 5 hours into the anal orgasm that was organized by Allah, do you follow???) Honestly I was The Chosen One for all that time when the girl in a skirt picks up the Mister’s mysteriously myself, my dropped gold pen on the office floor, for some more, me, the one true boss has Won!

Cash in $20’s for a genius investment I need the cash and a girl’s ass, but not too big (I like small butts on Anorexic girls, honestly, and from experience when I had to pull up my trousers…)  Yeah the Staff in one of 5 mental-hospitals collected my belt and gadgets, keys, car, they went to far, and showing ease with discomforting me for about 2 years in total — all because I totaled my Subaru, I did it for you, to come back with a Honda Insight, inside a garage, would I be taking this TOO FAR, if I go to a bar?  Ordering drinks WITHOUT ALCOHOL = SOBER 2016!

Sixteen Candles, backhoes carry handles, but not to be Dismantled, like a Mickey Rookie Card in the condition of “Mint” in a minute with my own components of evaporating spit savingly saying, “WTF?” Yeah li’l floozie, WANT to fuck?  I know I do, with you, my reader, or Justine- who I’ll feed her Kids Meals at UNO’s but only twice and not thrice three times her Mom drinking a Dixie cup of white wine, she was so fine- Linda I want to be with her… DAUGHTER, MY JUSTINE IN HER 30’s and hopefully not dirty, using Dove soap, we should have “eloped” my wife-to-be, that’s what she can expect from me, a promoted proposal, in the kitchen sink MMJ “Dispensary” that I’m so sorry to be writing this without any motion (motivated) of the “Bud” known as “MMJ ‘flower’” at most any hour, eating the infused chocolate, you know, getting “Lit” ????? The herb of my working world without having any in many years, I also forgo the beers — AND THE QUEERS! — I was in need of my Queen lipping “Bohemian Rhapsody” that’s made into a dark nigger’s “RAP” on CD when the many Blacks at Saint John’s were mean to me, showing distaste for all that they waste, spending money, wasted, on Chrome spinning rims to drink the shots, of Hennessy, when I only want WHITE people with me!

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