Breakfast of Champions

Look on my works ye Mighty and despair! Mere mortals and bovines tremble at my culinary wrath!

Sirloin with the fruit of the loins of poultry.

Sirloin with the fruit of the loins of poultry.

I don’t remember celebrating my 21st Birthday yesterday. But this morning I awoke to a battle scene. There was remnants of last night’s pizza and absinthe splattered across doors like the jews did with the blood of lamb to ward off the holy spirit from taken their first-borns. I like to think that my marks ward off the devil from taking my soul. He probably got away with my liver…that thieving bastard.


2 thoughts on “Breakfast of Champions

  1. I wasn’t able to reply to your comment over at the other site, so I thought I’d reply here. I know you don’t get it, but just because you have a penis and make a request does not actually mean I am required to reply. You’re not very smart; I had assumed that, but your writing here removes all doubt.

    I’ve had sex with an obscene amount of men in your eyes, and you know what? You’d never stand a chance with me. I’m a slutty whore and I still don’t want you. That burns, doesn’t it? And judging by this slop you write, you don’t really stand a chance with any woman. NEWSFLASH: THE PROBLEM IS NOT ALL WOMEN, THE PROBLEM IS YOU.

    P.S. Really, go on hating women, but you desperately need to work on your understanding of verb tenses.

  2. Pingback: The Anatomy of the Common Feminist Commentater Arguement(s) | Scar Tissue

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