To many times he had been in this position

To many times he had been in this position before. Not all too often he had been pleased by the way that she touched and loved him. She was a vixen, and her long blonde hair flowed

from her vagina and went out the window where the dude down below the tower could grab hold. He yanked it to make sure it would hold him. She almost fainted from the pain and

steeled herself against his weight hanging from her crotch. He climbed slowly up her bush and as he cleared the window, he

cried, "Rapunzel, you shaved your head!". Then he realized from where the braided hair he was climbing emanated and let go

of his inhibitions. So she wasn't down with society's current grooming guidelines, so what? Who could keep track these days? He continued climbing the 20-foot braid of pubes

when he suddenly realized that these weren't his at all. Somewhere along the line he'd gotten lost in a different set of hairs altogether. He could tell because these were red.

Red like the cheeks of the of it's host. Pure and pale girl. But he had to kill her, he speaks for our god, we respect him.

Our powerful god that moved mountains and seas, that made the darkness come at night and bless us with the light of the morning. Our god that made us commit murder in his name...

...turned out to to actually be the CEO of Pitchfork. Who would've thought?

Well, with that figured out I decided it was time to pack up my castanets and go home. The life of a nomadic One-Man Mariachi Band sure was an eventful one!