"Spit it out? I'll spit it out - it looks like we are fucked, but I need a clear-minded intelligent scientific-type person to corroborate my theory. Since we don't have one of those, I guess Drextin will have to do. Yo, Drextin! Quit filming Angelina's withering alien gonads and get over here!"
"What's up?" Drextin coughed, emerging from a haze of ganja smoke. "Holy shit! What the fuck is that?" he sputtered.
The crop circle was immense and beyond beautiful. Strands of wheat were transformed into a symphony of intricately-weaved unearthly designs culminating in a larger symbol that was terrifyingly alien, yet somehow familiar...
Cornbread silently watched from the edge of the woods and recognized the huge symbol at once.
"Of course!" he realized in terror, "but I never thought they would actually be able to pull it off".
- Jimmy Carl Black (the Indian of the group)
Taking a long puff from the joint Drextin focuses on Angelina's sack. He could not help but wonder if his hero Billy Bob Thorton had once fondled those nads. Then a strange thought ran through his head. Why was he staring at someone's junk when Lainn was standing nude for the world to see? Was it the gentleman inside of him who did not wish to be rude? Or was it the fear of being whipped like a little bitch for staring too hard? The whip.......definitely the whip.
Everyone is startled as mep emerges from the brush he had ran off into. He had a wide grin on his face and stood tall. The women of the group caught themselves looking at him for he was handsome!
Seems mep had not taken a bath in 2 years for fear of fluoride poisoning and the fire plane's unwanted appearance had cleaned the boy up good. Drextin had an odd thought. Hadn't he read something like this in letters to penthouse forum? Were they all just some ramblings of a horny madman. Or was he smoking some really good shit?
King of my jungle just a gangster stalking
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