#402, 734 - 2nd Ave. NW,
Ross. I'm going into a psychosis. I have been avoiding people and I have my camp supplies in a large back pack. First in the day I go to a spot in the woods. Gather and stack fire wood. Clear out my spot. Create several sharp stick spears. Then at night I carry my back pack and go there and set up my tent. Sit by the fire and cook snacks. I put grocery store bags in a plastic pickle bucket to poop in. Then tie the bags up with poop and pee and burn it up on my fire. At day break I put out the fire and cover it with dirt I collected the day before. In the woods I can dream and sleep because the extraterrestrial space aliens can't tune in to my cadence. If they send a wild animal it gets a cap, machete, or sharpened stick or club. I'll create a photo montage of my camp sites for you to post. I have to camp out every other day. I can hear the hum of alien vortex craft and so I cannot be on the pattern GPS. I have to sleep in the woods. Space aliens catch on so I have to create a new camp site each time.
When Truman has his Tori Spelling look a like sex change operation he is going to have three silicone breast implants sewn in a row so he can have more to offer during orgies when he starts his porn star career.
As a TORI SPELLING facsimilie he shall be called MISTRESS HIM!
Post a Comment