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there was a cat. his name was jose. he was

  • there was a cat. his name was jose. he was japanese. and yes i'm saying was...because he lost all his nine lives like....a couple minutes ago. i dont like cats...

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  • But I had a strong liking for this cat. Maybe it's because it was hers.... and It was the only thing I had left of her. So I adopted a parrot. She like parrots.

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  • The parrot had an extraordinary ability to not only mimic, but also to sing any Barry White number at will. This delighted her & she showed her thanks by

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  • showing her tits! The parrot didn't have any mardi gras beads to toss so he

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  • rose up mightily into the air, disappearing into the mardi gras street lights like jets in the sun. He focused his mighty parrot colon & launched a string of poo at her bare chest

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  • it splattered like a Jackson Pollock painting. But he didn't see the Cajun hunter with rifle. A cloud of feathers and the parrot thudded on the ground. The Voodoo witch picked it

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  • up, gutted it with a couple of quick motions, and had it breaded and fried in no time. "It's not all about magic," she said. "Sometimes you just have to eat good." That was my

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  • first teacher in the fine arts of magic. more of a gourmand of magic ingredients if you ask me. So I had to learn recipes for newt tail compote with bat vomit aspic or virgin blood

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  • pudding laced with dragon fly wings and black adder tongues. Actually it sounded kind of delicious so I whipped up a brew of

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  • roofies to slip into the cocktails of unsuspecting transvestite hookers.

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1 Comments

  1. SlimWhitman Mar 18 2011 @ 10:51

    Kudos to NixonBlack for focusing his might parrot colon!

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