Author: Daniel Sullivan

I’ve puzzled over the lines in the sky, the clear skies become cloudy and the planes flying by. It’s a riddle wrapped in a puzzle touching an enigma having sideways sex with a conundrum instigating a kerfuffle. Why? Where do those spray lines come from? Is it ENGINE EXHAUST? Is it GEOENGINEERING like that DANE WIGINGTON guy says? Are they poisoning us? Are they obscuring the approach of PLANET X? So many possibilities … but no one talks about SEASONING!!!

What if like curry spice or pepper, they are simply getting THEIR “chicken Mc Nuggets” ready for the feast?

70 foot aliens from the STAR SYSTEM DESDRA in QUADRANT 778, hungry and relentless.

Venezuela?

Strait of Hormuz?

It’s about SPICE … it was always about spice.

They’re getting us ready, generational SPICE experiments producing mutant recipes for TASTY HUMANS with very little after taste.

If you’ve had “lizards on skewers” in Belize, then you should KNOW what kind of cage-bounty these ALIENS or NEPHILIM have in store for their palate, and us.

These ALIENS aren’t messing around.

Your body is a moldy cheese curd and the aliens want your fermented butt juice, mixed with apple spice pudding and pumpkin wine.

Your TIRED STORY of the dirty shirtless minister and his busty assistant “Mary” ANGERS the stone-hounds and mirthful mighty scourge sojourning in your butt hole.

They don’t care …

You will be deep fried in WHALE OILS as the MEAN SPIRITED ALIENS chomp us down street taco style. TEXAS BBQ … THAI MAGIC … 100% human ugh-ribs.

Maybe you escape to the mountain refuge, where women that look like Sydney Sweeney care for your wounds and offer you a free handy. That’s a kingdom not far off, and ready to go.

YOUR FRIENDS will ABANDON YOU before the giants, making side deals and selling cheese wheels made from discarded Danish people and French bulldogs. Your family will splinter and go all helter skelter, seething with HOT BLOODY PAIN and the SHAME of TV DINNER NIGHTMARES. HOOP DREAMS give way to MIDNIGHT BASKETBALL as the channel chasers hunt mug-skirt and the women offer up their fruit ballast to darker gods.

YOUR CUBE STEAK is a MISTAKE … relent … relent …

There’s not amount of begging that dissuade the colossus beings lumbering through your town, chomping on humans, remembering the cumin, pinching off a loaf, like an oaf or a gorilla made of steel. This is FOR REAL and no amount of dodging will change the eye-beam pointing towards your fallen soul.

YOU KITE SMILE LIFESTYLE has been DESTROYED, and there’s no going back to Mayberry. Opie is moving in next door and the whore wives of DETROIT have no one t blame but there own lame underwear folly.

YOU WILL BECOME EDDY CAKE and DRAKE will open for music fest where the aliens eat the rest.

So get up and FLY!