crackhead time

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why do i do this to myself

poopoo man had always loved caca hell with its charming, colorful chickens. It was a place where she felt horny.

She was a poop, poop, milk ;) drinker with thicc intestines and skinny legend kidneys. Her friends saw her as a straight, spluttering satan. Once, she had even revived a dying, my feelings. That's the sort of woman he was.

poopoo man walked over to the window and reflected on her pp surroundings. The hurricane teased like crying rats.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of caca man . caca man was a poop satan's slave with shrexy intestines and aaaaaa kidneys.

poopoo man gulped. She was not prepared for caca man.

As poopoo man stepped outside and caca man came closer, she could see the smoggy smile on his face.

"I am here because I want poop sock," caca man bellowed, in a poop tone. He slammed his fist against poopoo man's chest, with the force of 347 alvin and the daves. "I frigging love you, poopoo man ."

poopoo man looked back, even more horny and still fingering the blue (da ba dee da ba die) spatula. "caca man, ok boomer," she replied.

They looked at each other with horny feelings, like two ratty, raw raccoons pissing at a very poop funeral, which had sad piano music music playing in the background and two poop uncles pooping to the beat.

poopoo man studied caca man's shrexy intestines and aaaaaa kidneys. Eventually, she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you poop sock," she explained, in pitying tones.

caca man looked horny, his body raw like a wet, wandering window.

poopoo man could actually hear caca man's body shatter into 9439 pieces. Then the poop satan's slave hurried away into the distance.

Not even a drink of milk ;) would calm poopoo man's nerves tonight.

THE END