The warrior had fought tirelessly, endlessly, it seemed. Between hacking down the thick furs of the cavity's lining and evading giants' clubs of soft Cotton he had grown increasingly weary.

Yet it was all worth it upon stroking the smooth skin of this Ear's treasure: Cochlea. He had whispered to it from afar to sense its vibration, and discovering it still lived he rose to a chant upon his approach.

All of his efforts were in vain, though. The Cochlea yielded no sage advice, or any comfort for that matter. Nonetheless, he would not let this beautiful creature out of his clutches. This was his task and he yearned for its completion.

He threw his rope out into the radiance that was the Outside: Images of Zoidberg cast above the precipice of the cave to the warrior's content. He was familiar with these types of spirits testing him— they had tempted his virtue throughout the steep journey up the cliff-face of the Inner Cloister. "FABULOUS", mock-Zoidberg chimed. The warrior was well aware of the dangers that could follow the overzealous. He would not succumb to such false fruit.

One more deep breath of the sweet fragrance of the cave and he was into the night... fretting the flickering images that would haunt his descent.

at least the viagra worked i guess

Around this time a small yet brave warrior was traveling 'round His Inner Cloister (His Great Ear). Rumored that a frail Cochlea lived within...his task must be to guide it to its new and larger home. If brought around the world as we know it this Cochlea could find purpose in His Other Ear, like a hermit to a shell.

The warriors' skin has become hardened and bronzen by his efforts Inside. There may yet be hope.


Solemnly signed,

Your meek bard of the South

(Excerpt)
...and so the long silence was pierced twice; once, by a scream in the night, there it was again in the sweet cream of the moon— it entered through a crook in the trees, this silence, before vacating His caverns by those of the Great Deldo. So something new was created. It was depicted in the absence of bat wings far off and by the giant that sconced away from the watchtower...it was a new shade: child of the Asstral Cavern.

TIL i guess

Witches of the Flute used to carve such objects to sing their colors from: I believe the color purple was largely derived from these song-sodomies.

shoving fallic shaped objecs up ur b-hole

You mean deldoing...or...?

dildoing is an important ability

Lots of instructing.

Hopefully one day my technical writing skills will surpass my ability to fit large objects into small spaces.

wut r u doing with ur life now

It's pretty sexy I guess.

Typically I get mentally stimulated before I get physically stimulated if that makes sense? Thinking about putting on something flame-retardant (could be oven-mitts or even a thick blanket) usually does it for me. Also if I think about all of the muscles involved in the writing process something about all of those finite movements rattles my cage so I guess that's how we ended up here.

i think u did thats just my H O T take

Okay I'll try to get to all of these:

I don't remember putting pens in my mouth but my bed is quite the cacophony so who really knows.

did u put ur pen's in ur mouth while sleeping?

it might be a pretzel