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MADAGASCAR 5 IS A LIE

Please collect your dildos you have left on my second kitchen floor, you fucking alt emo kid.

Its Friday.

Fucking fuck pasta. Well for me it is still Thursday because I refuse to go to bed and not fucking evaporate into non-existent or some shit like that. Me be objecting to the stripped naked fact that it is Friday till I wake up in the middle of that fucking shit ass Friday, smelling the breeze of Homework in my output folder between all my 45 missing assignments, soon to be one of them.

I just gassed.

BUT IT IS FRIDAY. The reason for my excitement about shitty Friday is not because of Friday. It's because that's the day my favourite dude will put his old ass rusty bitch fuck stand near my living to sell mackerels. I fucking love mackerels but only his mackerels. My old fella is selling them longer than I have ever lived in this bloody World and still I knew when I was a fucking fetus I want to be that little child at. 3 years old and eat one of those fishes that be selling before I was able to know the difference between a fucking radio active nuclear power station and the smell of a leaf.

I may have never said a single expression to this chap but I wish for this man to be a fucking immortal mackerels seller. Selling the same mackerels since 1745 and still making them taste like I'm entering heavens gate after sitting in the devils locker room to hide from my past self attitude from 6grade me. It's bussing hard it makes all my 10 fingers straight up digging into that oily mackerel flesh to distinguish the appetising quality of a fucking fish. I will straight consume it to the fucking bones down. (but yet, be keep'n distance with the ugly fish head cus black meat ew) I can already feel the consistency of the mackerels skin and body between my teeth rubbing salty and juicy against the balance of my tongue and down my fucking throat. His fish is tuning my suicide thoughts into the questionable existent of fucking god. I can't wait any longer. I am not capable on any level to hold my hunger for mackerels back, I said as I am listening to the extended version of 'guns' that fucking week 7 song from Friday night fucking fuck funkin. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA UWU

I WILL MOAN IN MORSE CODE JUST TO SKIP THESE 6 HOURS AND 56 MINUTES IN ONE FART. 

I WOULD EVEN SET MYSELF ON FIRE WHILE I SCREAM THE DEVILS  WORDS OUT OF MY LUNGS WHILE MAKN A LEFT GLOWE MADE OUT OF MY OWN CRUSTY ASS ASHY BUTT SKIN.

 I NEED MA-    --. .. ...- . / -- . / - .... . / -.-- ..- -- -- -.--

stop sneezing avocados you fuck