I am a camera

I am a camera
Say CHEESE!
"No way." This lactose tolerance had gone too far. I needed to round up every string and can of cheese into my internment basement. "That's where I hide stuff I hate: my exes, my
neighbor's cat, my high school math teacher..." I slapped my hand over my mouth - I had already said too much. If the basement was searched, the iron maiden would be found. And wh
oring and those things old folks like to do, and other cluttery things like that. But it was not the iron maiden that was of interest. It was what was inside the iron maiden
that was so shocking: Gilbert Gottfried! I thought he was dead! The spikes of the Iron Maiden had indented, but not penetrated his resilient flesh. "Gah, thanks!" he said, stepping
out of his voluntary torture chamber. "It's so erotic being impaled from all sides, but the iron spikes gave me some pusy welts that just burst. isn't it disgusting!" Gilbert was
pulsating both with pus and joy. He did not realize, nor did he care to realize, that the torture chamber was a demonic ritual, and he the vessel of the prophecy, the vessel of
Brainwashing, to be more accurate. The tellie was on 24 hours a day, to make it worse. He threw a brick at the tellie, shattering it into 4,215,428 pieces. Then he laughed out loud
because he was absolutely mental and ran towards the window, impaling himself on a shard of glass which was rammed through his chest.

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