Killer Carebear
09-08-2007, 9:28 PM
Goddamn. Out of that blasted vagina. Oh, you think I should’ve enjoyed it? I’m a few motherfucking minutes old. I haven’t even come close to developing traces of sexuali—It’s my mother you sick fuck!
She looks like a fatass around the age of 50. My first steps are going to be right out her fucking house.
It’s still attached to me. You wonder what? I have no fucking clue, that’s what! I’ve learned to just call it, “The Tube.” I don’t know what it does, but it’s the only thing attaching me to that meat bag I’ll have to call my mother. Wha—who’s that? White suit, gloves… A doctor? Is my life some sort of cliché joke? He looks like he’s out to murder me. Gloves, mask, scissors—he’s got ‘em all.
I’m free now. Release me from that wildebeest… Cut that tube… Oh yes… Oh yes! Oh, shut up. A fetish? No sexuality, remember. Freak.
What are you doing? OUTIE?!?!?!?! I’M NOT GOING TO WALK AROUND FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH A FUCKING PENIS ON MY STOMACH! It’s not worth living anymore. I just give up.
Where am I? Oh. I fell asleep that fast. Hm. The first thing to do would be to scan my surroundings. Ooooo. Look at that babe. I think I just developed sexuality.
You from around here?
--Wahhhh! WAAAH!!
A’ight. That’s pretty chill. Can I buy you a drink?
…You just wet yourself.
Nurse: Can I get you some nice milk?
Hot damn, you can! Nice rack.
--WAAAH!!
Nurse: You want some too? Drink up!
Lesbian action? Right in front of me? Man, if that babe pissed herself when I offered her a drink, I can’t even imagine what she’ll do after this. I can brag about it to all my friends when I get to middle school!
...A bottle? What is this? No breastfeeding? Fuck.
Oh, no. Not the obese meat-bag again.
“Time to go home!”
Damn it.
“…And look what I got from the baby shower. It’s the newest innovation in breast feeding!”
Fuck times two.
She looks like a fatass around the age of 50. My first steps are going to be right out her fucking house.
It’s still attached to me. You wonder what? I have no fucking clue, that’s what! I’ve learned to just call it, “The Tube.” I don’t know what it does, but it’s the only thing attaching me to that meat bag I’ll have to call my mother. Wha—who’s that? White suit, gloves… A doctor? Is my life some sort of cliché joke? He looks like he’s out to murder me. Gloves, mask, scissors—he’s got ‘em all.
I’m free now. Release me from that wildebeest… Cut that tube… Oh yes… Oh yes! Oh, shut up. A fetish? No sexuality, remember. Freak.
What are you doing? OUTIE?!?!?!?! I’M NOT GOING TO WALK AROUND FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH A FUCKING PENIS ON MY STOMACH! It’s not worth living anymore. I just give up.
Where am I? Oh. I fell asleep that fast. Hm. The first thing to do would be to scan my surroundings. Ooooo. Look at that babe. I think I just developed sexuality.
You from around here?
--Wahhhh! WAAAH!!
A’ight. That’s pretty chill. Can I buy you a drink?
…You just wet yourself.
Nurse: Can I get you some nice milk?
Hot damn, you can! Nice rack.
--WAAAH!!
Nurse: You want some too? Drink up!
Lesbian action? Right in front of me? Man, if that babe pissed herself when I offered her a drink, I can’t even imagine what she’ll do after this. I can brag about it to all my friends when I get to middle school!
...A bottle? What is this? No breastfeeding? Fuck.
Oh, no. Not the obese meat-bag again.
“Time to go home!”
Damn it.
“…And look what I got from the baby shower. It’s the newest innovation in breast feeding!”
Fuck times two.