Why must the Monkey subject poor Timmy to the horrors of his variegated fluids? The gods themselves, they do not know.
Submitted by that wily Anonymous again, 17 July 2006:
It just makes me laugh. Don't fucking judge me.
Posted by Josh at 9:16 am
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5 comments:
The doctors were fascinted by the results of Little Timmy's brain cancer. It was the most unusual case they had ever seen - the young lad was now competely unable to differentiate between clocks and hardcore pornography.
Timmy ran everything through his mind once again. Grandma was in the clock. The door to the clock was shut tight. The key to the clock was in his pocket. Everything was as he had planned it. And yet, something about the whole situation ... unsettled him.
"This week, Tom Cruise, our star in a reasonably priced car did it in...."
With bated breath Tom hoped that he'd at least beaten Nicole.
Little Harry wondered if he'd ever be able to hit the clock face with his semen. The only answer was to keep trying.
This needs a T shirt
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