Full Blown Idiot

Suckin’ on the straw of life baby.

I got no clue what’s goin’ on.

On idle I’m the equivalent of a gaggle of 80 80’ tall Oompa Loompas.

I swear bro there’s a 4 day period where corn’s like BANG, I’m in this piece.

‘Nother day down the drain baby 😎

I’m at work and I start smelling this strong scent of caramel, popcorn, hazelnut.. and it smells so good.. and I’m like, ya know what man, this is definitely one of the nicer strokes I’ve had.

Product Idea: Dr. Teal’s Buttcheek Softner.

Two words.. Igloo, Real Estate.

Smoky notes of charred tangerines or the algae from the outside of a wet submarine.. a cascading whirlwind of a familiar scent or the warm wet shoes of a stranger’s feet..

Marbles succumbed to Gravity’s toll tell tales of a mind that was once held whole, memories you can taste, thoughts you can sniff.. bacon, butterscotch candies.. wet dew on a clean ladder..
. the synchronicity of a random dude being nice to you when you just thought “meh, I should prolly be nicer to people.”.

The subtle opportunities in which we display that the concept of racism is obsolete like a social l**e that warms the soul and for a moment you feel, black.. er white er whatever.

The organic weeding out of idiocracy as legions gather to argue over the color of a mermaid or which bathroom to use..

A light chef’s kiss upon your forehead. A sweet sinister whisper inside your ear hole. The exhilarating rush upon completion of a water slide and vigorous splash into a warm-wet cauldron of your fellow patrons’ urine.

A story about someone else stubbing their toe. A story that ends with, you saying “I told you so.”.

These things and all things, Umami.

Fin,
Anonymous

It's a shark eat shark jungle out there. There's no rules, no laws.. there's not even anymore payphones.

My life is basically back to back sticky situations. It's like having Midas' Touch except with peanut butter.