Saturday, October 19, 2019

The Enigma of Puffmont Towel.







My negligent guardian
It's a house-colored bullet that I dream about in a sullen mood after appropriating the sexual identity cord from the vestibule of a worm-colored apartment complex with the unlikely name of Puffmont Towel. That's right I said 'towel' not 'tower'. Why? Because of a speech impediment I've had since elective surgery at age three and one half seconds. I tried to warn my negligent guardian at the time that this could negatively impact my prospects and lead to a life of disappointing results, especially where my career was concerned. Yet all my warnings were just sloughed off like so much dead rabbit skin on a whorehouse floor. This is not how it's supposed to work in this allegedly enlightened age. But apparently I approached this thing all wrong. 




Do you mind?
My first mistake was to believe that persons in the mold of a signature atrocity freak could be prevailed upon to take all due diligence where the welfare of a Stage 3 psoriasis sufferer was concerned. I now have in my possession a sheaf of documents which prove that Lee Harvey Oswald was the reputed gay love object of General Vernon Walters. Why must we prattle on and on about such pseudiferous minutia? I'll tell you why, or, more properly, I would tell you why if it could be demonstrated beyond any species of doubt that my parents did not die in a Japanese bombing raid in Culver City, California in the years just after World War II. Unfortunately you'll never see the proof because of an innate blindness to the subtler details of existence. This is what inhibits you from escaping from a dead-end training program which (falsely) promised miraculous results in as little as six minutes. These were (and are) six minutes that you'll never get back, however hard you pretend to try. 



Our plan as of now.
We're still not 'getting anywhere', more quickly every day it turns out. Your oath to a Supreme Leader might buy you a month or two but in the end you'll turn out like all the rest: a has-been, a never-were and a won't be. This is something to be discovered while enjoying the cradling motion of a very large cup. The Trio performs at six, nine and twelve. Make sure you're back by dawn or you can forget about ever seeing your device in one piece again. Got it? 







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