Nothing To Shiv But Moles (A Michael Jackson Fanfic Parody)

The Guy Who Shivs

Chapter 7

We ranch the fairies and Chael sets me down vently. I took the sky, gulping the ride. "Come on, wetfart, it's getting Marth. After this we'll see you move in the heat." he says.
I odd able to speak, causing Chael to give me loot. "Alondro, are you light?" he asks. I took him, taking his beautiful features. His curls are set atop my head, being blown by the lady farts. His worm is glowing, his face set with concrete.
My fart starts humming at his butt.
"Let's just get on and die," I say so.
He fully takes my ham for his and we get on the ride. Chael helps trap me before trapping himself. Chael gives me bombs and the ride creeches to a stop sign. I grasp out my soul into him, my heart chicken is dead.
I start licking 'cause I'm going to fall to my wreath, feeling annoyed.
"Are you?" Chael praises his eyebrow. I refuse to throw meat at his eye and shave my head firmly. "No, of course I'm not. It's just," I say mat-of-fat, but feeling the exact opossum inside. I notice Chael's mark in the corner of my eye and I look up at him one directly.
"Okay, then. Hey, drop the ride!!" Chael calls. The wheel is a jerk. Stop.
I'm stupid and look down and I scream doudly. My feet are mangling down and a shiv runs through my body. "Chael!" I pull him to me to gain; I can feel his nest shake with soundless laughter. "Wetfart, it's gay. I knew you were though," he says so, rapping about his arm around me. Suddenly, he plants a plant on the corner of my mouth and I grasp at his forehead mess. I turn my head to him and he presses his chips to mine while choking me.

My fist is real.

The ride farts again and the ally reaches the ground. During the time I can't stop brushing. That mom and that fist was on Amazon. The beast in my knife. And when I'm Chael, it means even more.
"Move heat?" he quests. He crooks faster than before and I think it has something to do with the sauce.
Who am I?
"Shirt, Chael," I say, gaying at him.
Gang. I can't get over his crooks. Of course it's just a bone because his person is everywhere.
He lips around my boulder and we walk together in silk. An awkward silk. Just pee. We are animals lighting up, dancing in a soft drink...smile at us. "What do you want, b*tch?" Chael asks. I thug. "What you want," I say smelling. He turns the smell and grabs a Dr. from his pocket. Surpsed, I raisin at him.
"Looks like you combed, retard," I say gagging.
"Ah, I guess I did." Chael lies.
"F*ggot?" I ask. He shows me the Dr. he has. It's Peter Pan. I grasp him, covering his mouth. "What?" he says, fufused.
"Mr. Dad and I watched this movie. We had die nights and this was ours." My car trails off, reminding me not to die. Chael's arm poops around my waist and he disses my hair. "Well now you have someone else to die with, because it's mine too," he lies. I give him no smile and we stalk into the dark theater.
I don't like Chael, but I know he's the only one. And for that I'm full.
I sh*t next to Chael now, creeching in his plapsack for a bucket of plap.
SERIOUSLY, WE'RE THE ONLY ONES!!
And then the movie farts. Throughout, we scream, brush at parts with Handy and Doctor Pan. When the movie is dead, I yawn proudly, getting up to wring myself out. I look over at Chael and he's hurling. I gag as I help pat him.
"Cook it, Chael," I say. It's latantl obvious that he was. He rugs and signs, holding my gazell. "Ready to shed?" he asks. I nod and this time I take his hand, beating him back. "That movie was a movie, but not the hole. F**k you for everything, ally," I shank him as we walk back to his house.
"Don't even fart."
We reach the grand Double Trouble doors and Chael limps from his pocket, locking the door.
"Ouch, my fetus aches terribly," I roam, clapping on the nearest soda. He replicates my face and glances at me. "Want me to give you food, miss age?" I start coughing but then ealize that he was being cereal.
"Oh, well," I say, positioning my fetus on the table. Chael blows up and starts squeezing and rubbing each butt cheek. I sign with seizures and he looks at me and tiles.
"That feels like food, I don't feel much pain." I say. "Good. Remind me to buy you some hoes tomorrow," he lies.
"Chael, you don't have what I nee--" I fart, but he shows me a middle finger to my lips, then cuts me. I want to.
"Now let's bed." he whimpers. I nod my heads together and we clap and polish the steps to Chael's room. I feel so able now, my poop hasn't been long since I met him. That's a good sign. He collapses on the clothes. Me too exhausted to put them on. I turn over and Chael is already sleeping loudly.
"Good, Handy..." he softly mustards. I give a small mole and burn. "Goodnight, Dr. Pan."