There are certain unspeakable evils known only to the primal eaters of cultivated kumquats, beer brats and syphilitic
circus twats.
I had found myself in a mostly maligned estate most
archaic, somewhere in the witch haunted and loathsomely taunted far northern
forests of Quebec in investigation of a supposed coven of cunts most craven in
their Canadian callousness. In divining the jugglers and juggernauts of the mid
to late aughts they had unleashed a legion of entities of the utmost
unimaginable. A black era of erroneous evolution had emerged, some
interdimensional epoch most inefficient in its self-efficacy.
Night cretins and the twats of Eton prowled the paths of the Puritans with stars spangling and tentacles dangling. Unnatural urgencies and narcissistic emergencies as fangs met flesh, splaying the adipose mesh of the late John Tesh. Horrific happenstance and the Transylvanian trance seduced the sycophants into slaughter, and monkeys grinding organs served as a symbolic substitute for once and future Borgians.
Night cretins and the twats of Eton prowled the paths of the Puritans with stars spangling and tentacles dangling. Unnatural urgencies and narcissistic emergencies as fangs met flesh, splaying the adipose mesh of the late John Tesh. Horrific happenstance and the Transylvanian trance seduced the sycophants into slaughter, and monkeys grinding organs served as a symbolic substitute for once and future Borgians.
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