Day: November 22, 2025

Take your San Francisco pizza party dreams to Doc Swenson near the lost caves of Brampton. Finish off the OLD TURD SWERDLERS and move on to SACRAMENTO to find the last haven, the last stronghold.

Capture barnacle monkey refugees and sell them to the TUNNEL FREAKS in MANHATTAN, afterwards you can hang with Gershwin outcasts and urban discards on discord. Dissected ballet dancers from the MET took their time at the tea houses in SOHO, normality be damned as the tumors ravaged Gilda. “You can’t find a better pastrami sandwich!”, screamed the street vendor and then the flash of light and he was gone.

Our TIME VANTAGE is -0003, and core temperature is beyond limits. The MAG-BOTTLE containing the bodily infloozium could not hold the damaged souls and split open to release the empty death pact of Hell.

There are crisscrossing tunnel systems around the world. Mold wardens keep watch over openings and trapdoors and storm drains that lead deep within, to Aunt B’s apple pie paradise.

New Kids on the Block stand before the great glowing inner sun, as the MOLE KINGDOM shakes and the bakers mix sturgeon flour and gusto cheese and wolf butter.

KOHL’S MOM is part of the pumpkin spice ginger tit apple pie mafia.

I’ve invented a TURKEY HOLIDAY SPICE MUFFIN SURPRISE. You insert the suppository containing the TURKEY MIST FLAVORING and a blue glowing orbis arises from your anal cavity engulfing all the guests in your home.

I basted your love trinket with butter and lemon.

Glazed turnips from AUNT MARGO fill the air with putrid frustration, but your HOLIDAY SURPRISE is still coming.

I spun up a fusion rocket surprise and UNCLE JAKE rode the colon snake all the way UP TOWN, there were frothing whore surprises there and nothing left to steal. We met up at DEL RAY’S STEAK HOUSE off of 3rd Street, and ate our fill. Then after we strode the avenues of that dark and dank city, covered in mule droppings and coyote blood mystique.

THESE ARE THE CHIVES …