Ever chase that rabbit down the hole? I did once and I ended up in snow covered field holding wilted roses asking for a slut that couldn’t give a shit. Who lusts for a half-way houser? One who cracks a crooked smile like a vulture defining “muffin top” to an Oxford scholar. I more respect for a fucking clergymen with paddle. You bet his robes glisten with that off white hue that Ozzies out, “molester!,” because how else could he trick himself into being religious? Like a doppelganger named Alice looking through the glass just pondering, waiting to mug that one sap that grabs the pamphlet from that tie-wearin’, bicycle ridin’ conversion machine. Grouped, only to be bussed in n’ out of the residential. With a chip on their shoulder, and a mission from God they eat up the ignorance like it were salsa. But, just like a rotten watermelon the salsa’s fake and chunky like the cheese all in a sad, subversive effort to warn the normals that there is something a foot.
Full circle, I wore that white rabbit’s foot like a talisman to ward off evil. Only Bruce Cambell and Stephen King could write in that chainsaw wieldin’ bastard and make it reach the pop culture warehouse. Brian better be scribin’ because Peter’s escaped his Warehouse and needs his partner in crime. Only the Greeks would beat that Griffin till he bleeds. Fucked and drunk they fondle themselves just reach the present with a legen-wait for it-dary status inscribed upon their medallions and our history books. Barney would tighten his tie turn around slap the nearest conversion machine, sucker punch the purple creeper who calls himself a dinosaur, and ask Ted to just get married already because his story’s getting’ old…quick. Bob Sagat better find his career because who’s going to remember a Fullhouse when all of the twin’s poker chips are wrapped up in diet pills and Coke?
Mario’s the only doctor I get my pills from and even his door slide, reads, “plumber.” No wonder Princess Peach wears that chastity belt…what woman wouldn’t? He’s a mustachioed plumber with a deep tie to the Catholic church and even his hands are covered in more blood than Bowser’s. Deep soaked in crimson, he’s pierced the hide of the lizard named Luigi. Only R.A. Salvatore could write that dragon tale and have it be forgotten in a catalogue of realms. Once again I’ll strike back like the Empire, and say fuck the hardships, fuck the supposed truths, fuck their way of life. I’ll fix the corruption, we’ll fix the corruption because I am damn tired of corporations and politicians getting’ their personal fix from my wallet. They fuckin’ grab for my idea again I’ll let a miscellaneous three letter acronym and their committee sitttin’, foot tappin’ proverts have it like Vader’s wrath on Endor and a force choke to the throat of corruption. It’s damn hard to spew hate when you can’t breath.