Sometimes you have to let the purple monster off its leash to perpetrate some random idiocy…
Listen up long and hard my crisp-bellied friends, there are enemies among us. They stalk the camps with their long, toothy jaws slack and moistened. They track your young daughters’ loping gazelle-paths through the crackling campfire towers of dusk with hungry and unrepentant prurience. Recluded to dark shadows, these sinister androids lay in the cool hollow with slinking arachnids, cosy to your tent office, and keenly listen to your most secret desires. Ready, upon their triumphant return to their wicked lair of depravity, to broadcast these lies to the thousands upon thousands of luciferic manrobots of the liberally unwashed peoploids.
Ye shall cry, “O, Frippled Zarch, how could such enthusiastic accusations of a fevered imagination be considered as truth?” I am laying in wait of such foolish retorts. Yea, I shall spring with the supple fortitude of a wet midsummer sapling, and spake deep into thine heart of eardrums, the sacharine truth that should drip like so much honeyed poison down the spider silk of your slumbering ninjas. Reel in unbelieving and revulsive tumescence as this fantastic revealing spurs thine eardrum of hearts to crush itself in a herculean effort to pump its rhythmn with increasing fortitude. Howl with the beastly nightmares of our forefathers naked in their blood-wearing wolfskins and angry ant-stomping elders who hath drunk from the spore-laden piss of the virgin yak!
Yes. Knoweth this, O piddling cesspool of childish chalk drawings. You are the robot of which I spittlingly describe. Freedom is a word you have been emblazoned with. It has been seared into your bottocks with the terror-iron of your master’s brand. You feel it every time you deign to rest your aching corpse from the unending toils of the mines. If you dare to drop the splintering pickaxe from your endless gouging at our earth’s ovaries – you gasp in agony and clutch stupidly at your deferred payments and gradual erasure of human dignity. The gate slams shut and you find yourself on your feet again, muttering the company motto and bashing your mind into the tiny crevice between your gonads.
Whew!
