/lit/ - Literature

>>22214451
just because you fucked your mum, chris, doesn't mean you can start calling other people virgins.

tell me this picture doesn't resemble you.

>>22160988
>spergs
>announces he's leaving
I don't care, anon. Call your parents or something.

Once upon a time in the land of cabbage
their rode a solitary horseman in pursuit of a carriage,
he had it on some authority that what dwelt there within
was a boyfriend-free girl with a perfectly working quim.

The horseman was a picture of all glory in The Lord;
'ponst his helmet was a skew'ed duckling with its wings extended broad,
his sigil a blushing hedgehog which was painted gaudy 'ponst his shield,
and his colours, blue and yellow, made him stand out in any field.

And as he passed beneath an apple tree one fell upon his head
and it knocked him from his horse and very nearly struck him dead,
he found himself enmeshed in a fearful muddy patch just then
and the terrible weight of his armor plate was bound to suck him in,
so he made haste to unbuckle it and free himself from all his clothes
and then made haste to chase his horse, and uttered in a voice more from his nose,

"wait, ye, horse, wait for me,
for I am Sir Christian Chandlery,"

but the horse was quite unmoved, neigh, it was actually far more invigored
to be freed from the bulk of its rider and as it pranced it struck a figure
and indeed the gay parade made quite the day of all who it passed,
to see Sir Christian Chandlery, well known, with his bare arse,
he lumbered huffing puffing but he could not match the speed
of the gentle casual prancing of his newly liberated steed.

>>21925812
no no, don't you see? The anon is the one human who can see the past and the future, he has figured out that:
>culture becoming increasingly degenerate, satanic, hedonistic, base
AND BY JESUS'S GRACE THAT THE LORDD IS COMING VERRRRRRY SOOON, AND THIS PROVES IT:
>athiesm on the decline
THAT THE ANON IS THE STATIONARY OBSERVER - THE ULTIMATE SUPERIOR FORM OF HUMANKIND(!) FOR HE IS MAKING OBSERVATIONS THAT ARE GENERIC! COUNTERING THEM WITH PLATITUDE!

Truly, He is risen.

Cynthia and the girls were talking around the water cooler one early Spring afternoon, when Kelly rushed up to them clutching her bottom, "help, help," she exclaimed, "I'm in real trouble, yo check it, it's happening again!" and the girls one by one inquired as to the nature of her perturbations, "was it sexual harassment," Cynthia inquired, "did one of those males hold the front door open for you again?" and Kelly replied that this was not the case, rather that her problem was that it was her period and all morning she had been propelled upwards into the air by massive bursts of high-powered menstrual excrement and another was bubbling away down there, "i can feel it, yo," she insisted.

"Not to worry," said Florence, "I'm recently certified in how to deal with this," and she reached into her handbag, pulling out various little items, squinting hard at each one, and then putting it back and taking out another.

The girls exchanged glances of trepidation at the sight of this, whilst Kelly, beginning to pop up and down from the untapped pressure within her lady bottom insisted for them to hurry it all along.

"Aha," exclaimed Florence at last, and pulled from her handbag a Glock 19 Semi-Automatic Pistol, which was almost bigger than her entire arm, "now here's the solution," she said and shot Kelly square between the eyes.

Little good that it did however, as the quick-thinking Florence had not wagered upon the menstrual discharge blasting off anyway and propelling Kellys emaciated body this way and that, upsetting tables and knocking potted plants all over the office floor.

"What in Christmas!" roared Mr Jessop, who had heard the report of the firearm and had suffered quite the PTSD from his time in the Army Kitchens, "where are the onions?" he demanded to know. Hi eyes were bloodshot, his pupils dilated, and he grasped Florence gently by the hand and demanded to know if she knew where the onions were and if she was his Commanding Officer.

Thinking quickly, Florence shot Mr Jessop square between the eyes and, to be sure he was quite dead, kicked him hard in the testicles over and over until she was restrained by a poltroon from HR.

"Heavens above," she exclaimed, "I have committed firearms possession with self-actualized intent to butchery!" and, realizing the gravity of her offenses against the law, she broke down in tears, "help, help," she wailed to the poltroon, "I am but a small girl in a scenario unfit for my station," and she added, "der de der der," and the poltroon, himself being overcome by her pheromonal excretions, announced in garbled language that it was 'perfectly okay' and that 'they had a tried and tested protocol for just such a thing as this' as 'it happened all the time'.

The poltroon reached into his manbag and produced a large mass of slippery wet rubber, with all the decorum about it of a broken Johnny, "and now," sang the poltroon, pressing one end of the rubbery mass into his mouth, "behold!" and he blew and blew.