/lit/ - Literature

Stank of lads and black smoke when the widows march was new by forty twas twizzlers day and dirty by door by two saw mine off the rack and into the wall where the plaza, yadda yada, cut me down by three, four wrenches and swabbed the batsmans hand with ink

"sorry mate caught a blinder whose wraparound town-ward store-bought 'nothin-but-trubble' eyes had our pea's and fort's mixed out over tuesday saw me plenty good kush (womans anus port for Plenty off a rimjob Sallys yaksmen herds out of a treacle asshole buckets lunch from cum or enough to curl up like a hardened worm on the door of England, sorry, no porridge but taut ass finally through the vagina (in one side and out the other, dad said) it wasn't until least week had a birds claw on the seat of my mates muff her head hair wasn't like a feather til the pudding was served where we set down the mountain and Marys rams startled our yachts forever wasn't a career for the crater, bong time nor a turret for a beans testicle chaos, "everything and the kitchen sink", commercial port-town tight wrapped, kept under batted eyes grabbed in friendly apologies"

Penmarks on the palm of the swingers pad and spanner, five or six by up yer slit, etc., "mall's the location," out of tits (my own) or chain-cutters too, floor pie flirty, sandy business-ers swat swarthy my blue watch, arched spinsters (the hens!) yolk slackened spat out snack.

>>3789695
>Accuses stranger of being a know-it-all pleb
>Posts xkcd