Like a badguy from that shitty trilogy

Spoken only in the clammy moments following moist autumnal coitus, rumors of buttered corn and spear sharpening prompt newly beds to draw straws for sacrament. In rising a view of unphotographable nudity humans one stiff, one astonished. The gossip is thrust into coordination and a short hair of significance.

sliding a ribbon ever so gently so as not to cause gaggings or sphinctoral spasms, we gradually mount all spending and return with a slight drip. Sore in a few places, sure, but having pulled through after hesitating moistens most groins.

Legend has it that he had to shake hands with the mayor eleven times before they could sit down. It could have been the applause of an uninformed wrongfully-impressed crowd, or just general mistrust. Once the redness subsides it will be easier to tell. He finds a hard time adjusting, and will reach for the rag and cork before allowing anyone to settle in. For hours until its forgotten they will press ripened pitted dates into each others tender folds, giggling about a traditional juice recipe that can be used as an excuse for anything.

So it was that facebook lifted the hood and found god.
amen