John Bronner soaked the antique newspaper

John Bronner soaked the antique newspaper with brandy and struck a match. "The Daily Gazette used to tell us stuff. It didn't tell us what to see." He let it go. He let it all go.

John fell to the couch. If only he hadn't taken his grandfather's story so seriously or believed what the "magical" newspaper enticed him, or just got into the entire hype of it

alics. The couch caught John, the oily cushions spread apart and out popped the sacred half-eaten Hot Pocket. John couldn't believe it, by crossing the magical newspaper and

reaching out towards the holy Hot-pocket, marvelling at the perfectly shaped hole that had been carved by the teeth of his God, who was of course none other than

that guy that did that thing involving that mountain and nearly died twice while doing it. That guy that you always see waving at you from the trees in foreign post cards. That guy

-ns that were coming out of her ass and projecting onto the wall, like cartoons that were animated in another dimension. "Amy Lee can do anything. She's magical!" he thought. But

what if I’m not good enough for her? What if a guy who can make balloon characters with his peni.” “A 24K diamond ring for your thoughts,” declared Amy Lee, snapping him awake.

With a tittyslap dipped in concrete. When he regained consciousness he couldn't recall much of anything, opting to simply drool at her. It was only later she found the cock circus

where she fulfilled her dream of becoming a world-famos circus performer. Unfortunately one day she fell from a rope hanging in the air 10 meters up while doing a salto and died.