X-Rated Creation Story

Disclaimer:  Psychological Nudity, Language, More than a little sexual innuendo, and Drug References (possibly)

Dear Sara,  Dear Abraham, Dear Jesus,

I guess I could say, I’d like to say, I think to say, I might deign to say, albeit a word or two.

Or maybe just insinuate, if that would suffice, but I don’t think it will… … …So,

May I Could I Would I Might I,

I just dare to say some brief words, and Sara, if you’re listening, consider this Divorce.

If I don’t get through this, then maybe I’ll just give up.  But if I do, glad to be through.

A man met a woman.  She flashed her breasts.  It was one of the greatest of all of the tests.  Whether to give in.  Give in to sin.  Whether to acknowledge or remediate the same.

And I guess we may hit a few extra G’s.  We may take off in just seconds, if you please.  Fasten your seat belts.  Only one key to life:  Garra.  Hook on, and hold on tight.  We’re going supersonic.  We’re going to Mach 3.  Wait for the BOOM!  Wait for the boom! boom! boom!

We’re about to explore where no man has gone before.  The psychology of description.  Did I say, description?  I meant, encryption?  The seven curses of Cain are the key to understanding all things latter day.  The seven curses.  The seven curses.  The seven curses of Cain.

And Adam and Eve got caught up in a mess, possibly unprepared for all of the tests.  But a Cain slays an Abel, and quickly we have a story to tell.  The story of the Creation from the blood in the ground.  The blood crying, “Cain, Cain, where is your brother Abel?”

And of course, there are rats. And of course there are snakes.  Some foxes are sly, and some foxes are fakes.  But join with me for the ride through Eternity and back.

When I was a boy, only allowed to be Skeletor.  Never wanted to play alone, but I was designated Skeletor.  “I want to be He-Man!”  –No. I’m He-man.  You’re Skeletor! —  And so I was told, and so it was.  The journey unfolded, the stars the Mordors.

And Mr.  555 painted the golden screen.  Mr. 555 painted the screen again and again.  And every time they called, he painted it again.  On the other end was a prod, a rod to abuse.  On the other end was the rod that wickedness used.  Now 555 was just biding his time, a journey, a relate, a destiny to find.  Every time new or renewed, if you will, but always a failure and never quite true.  So, 555, and when I call him, I think, “How much of this is he actually going to paint?”

But then there were others who gathered in quite.  The ones razed and forgotten by adventure’s plight.  I’ll name here, but forgotten they are.  Abraham and Sarah who called together this art.  And sex everywhere.  555 paints his squares.  And sex everywhere.  555 paints his squares.  Perfectly lines, what we call a matrix.  Very visible to who knows what? where? why? when? how? to look.  A matrix.  And I asked for the ring.  “One ring to rule them all.  One ring to find them.  One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.”  Gollum, give me that damned ring back!  Give it me.  Give it me.  –My precccciousssssssssssssss.  My precioussssssssssssss. —

Oh, good.  He got the wrong one.

And off they went to find another sucker who would start their fun.  Only they don’t think ahead.  Just sex sex sex.  Procreate all the name of the game.  ‘Course, she comes down hard, bruises the penis, and maybe the ego, too.  And so it becomes just a little of warfare, too.  But you go, Abraham, get on with the work.  No reason to shirk.  No reason to shirk.  Got more universes to sand and to star.  Got so many more universes to sand and to star with all your pro pro pro-create.  With all your pro- pro- pro-create.  Take her and go.  Run with your might.  Your strength as a runner and endurance that flows like thieves of the night.  Your strength to continue pining for her.  Go go go.  Go, Abraham, go.

And now, by the powers of Grey Skull I declare myself King of the world.  (Now, lest anyone take ANY of this seriously, I would remind of the unwritten fine print before opening this blog–that fine print named ‘Artistic License.’  Hee hee hee.)


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