I'll Jerk Off On Your Face And Call You Dad.

Fuck, Peabs is fascinating.

In preparation for Thursday's debate, yours motherfucking truly and Dr. Bill motherfucking Cosby took the red-eye in from Zaire and went our respective ways, trying to create some more buzz for the Obvs in '04™ Campaign. Coz hit the church circuit, feeding the audience crank-laced puddin' pops and convincing them that the Bible was actually written during a coke-induced episode of Picture Pages. Schmobvs. Your beautiful and fearless leader, on the other hand, visited the Pacific Northwest with an ex-fling in mind. And by ex-fling, Peabs really means she used to cover me in Smuckers® jam and suck my D™ with a mouth full of Jif®. Moms like her choose Peabs. Obvs.

Anyway, my ex-fuck is actually reputable pedophile Mary Kay LeTourneau, whom Peabs used to partake in many a golden shower with when I was in preschool. She had phoned me while I was mid-rail, begging for some of that "hot lunch" I used to give her way back when. I figured she might be good for research (sloppy head) on the issue of national education; an issue certain to come up in the debate. Normally I have no problem assfucking married women - BOVS - howevs, LeTourneau is one fucked-up mama. And I've effed plenty of fucked-up mamas, but the shit she used to make me do to her was fucking vile, even by Peabs' admittedly low standards. The peanut butter and jelly thing was tame compared to what occurred after I won the National Spelling Bee at the tender age of 3 and a half.

For those of you who didn't already know this, Peabs was a boy genius. I know this doesn't come as a shock to you, considering how effing brills I am now. Be that as it may, as a young lad my parents were big fans of exploiting their first born and his genius, so they entered me into the National Spelling Bee, even though I didn't even come close to matching the age requirement. How Peabs was allowed in the contest is a whole other story (it involves blowing 10 inch rails off of my D™, nothing new). Anyway, I destroyed the competition. Duh. I got so bored with languages, I made up my own, so how could Peabs not spell every word imaginable? Shmears.

Coincidentally, LeTourneau had been a private tutor of mine since I was two, and we began a passionate affair soon afterwards. She always claimed she had something really nasty up her sleeve for 'lil Peabs, once she felt I deserved it. Apparently, spelling pseudopseudohypoparathyroidism correctly made her really fucking horny, because once I returned to Seattle, she was like I had never seen her before. Gobble fucking gobble.

Clad in Saran Wrap®, she also wore a giant black strap-on dildo. Unbeknownst to Peabs, she was much more flexible than I had ever remembered; Mary Kay was giving head to very own dildo. The sight was a tad bizarre, but not as strange as when she lead me into a room filled with powdered sugar, asked me to shit all over her, and then kick her around so that the sugar would stick to her body. I was then asked to shoot a hot load down her throat, which she playfully gargled. I asked her what the fuck she thought she was doing, and she responded by saying she "wanted to be Krispy Kreme® for Halloween." To which Peabs responded with more vomit than my first day at a heroin detox clinic.

I haven't eaten since.

Despite the fact Peabs has suffered from every eating disorder known to man because of Mary Kay LeTourneau, I decided to still pay her a visit. She claimed she had changed. Peabs should've known better. She mars.

Peabs should've bolted the second I walked in the door, with Mary Kay begging for me to blow a hot one on her face and call her "Papi." But, obvs, I didn't. Needless to say, I'll have a lot to express regarding our nation's educational system this coming Thursday. Bovs all over your fucking tees, you trannie-fucking cockface.

into crossing sidewalks the
unwary june-bug and the frivolous
angleworm
Thou dost hang canary birds in parlour
obvs in
'04™.