Yes, Hell awaits You!
Lucky You, for you are one of the faithful followers of the Snake God, Set. Do you drink whiskey? Like the smell of a cigar after nice meal? The scent of a fresh spanked whores ass during a night on the town with the Mayor? More Rye, Now! Fetch me Rye, Quick! Haul over the Rye Keg, that mighty barrel that could last a week of forgetfulness and future child parentage. You will be breeding like the Mayor!
You are one of the lucky 93% that will not be effected by this contested rumor of non-factual and Reactive like an Inductor towards our Social Economy. Let the weekly monographs from my pen guide your thoughts in the rumourful long sunny months of food indulgence. Fat helps the harvesters of Set, and you are their Custer Scout on this planet. The fat ones are always taken first. Not from greed for empire, but to satisfy a taste for fatty bacon. It was sold salted and dipped in honey, in this your possible future! Thats you. You wanna be productive, or you wanna be bacon?
Hear the heart warming story of a little girl, and her doll, survive the horrid conditions with the help of a werewolf, for fattening. Easter, to me, is when werewolves like to eat little girls. Some eat them cooked, some eat them raw. Some eat slowly, which upsets passers by. And then upon the scene strides strongly is the strong, brave Mayor, champion survivor of this new village peoples place, to help the little girl, and her doll.
The little girl grows up to command a vast space empire as a decadent smart ruler for these hideous reptiles and other chasing, but none the less real smart, omnivores. She was in command, and she had all the shoes. She owned the shoe industry on her planets! Rush Limbaugh was her Overseer!
Stop being a Food. Stop having a Food-Mentality. Disobey Food, by obeying Fenris. Let Fenris be your Friend, as you fatten in happiness. Let Fenris fatten you for Easter! Mmmmmm. Are you the food source and plaything of rival powerful barbarian tribes? You dig shit, is your name. Or something better when you sign up for winged pyramid service? and the newsletter!
catch this thrown book at Chamberpot Publishers, as Pottage of the Month. Mmmmm. Worth every $49.95. Hurry!
You are one of the lucky 93% that will not be effected by this contested rumor of non-factual and Reactive like an Inductor towards our Social Economy. Let the weekly monographs from my pen guide your thoughts in the rumourful long sunny months of food indulgence. Fat helps the harvesters of Set, and you are their Custer Scout on this planet. The fat ones are always taken first. Not from greed for empire, but to satisfy a taste for fatty bacon. It was sold salted and dipped in honey, in this your possible future! Thats you. You wanna be productive, or you wanna be bacon?
Hear the heart warming story of a little girl, and her doll, survive the horrid conditions with the help of a werewolf, for fattening. Easter, to me, is when werewolves like to eat little girls. Some eat them cooked, some eat them raw. Some eat slowly, which upsets passers by. And then upon the scene strides strongly is the strong, brave Mayor, champion survivor of this new village peoples place, to help the little girl, and her doll.
The little girl grows up to command a vast space empire as a decadent smart ruler for these hideous reptiles and other chasing, but none the less real smart, omnivores. She was in command, and she had all the shoes. She owned the shoe industry on her planets! Rush Limbaugh was her Overseer!
Stop being a Food. Stop having a Food-Mentality. Disobey Food, by obeying Fenris. Let Fenris be your Friend, as you fatten in happiness. Let Fenris fatten you for Easter! Mmmmmm. Are you the food source and plaything of rival powerful barbarian tribes? You dig shit, is your name. Or something better when you sign up for winged pyramid service? and the newsletter!
catch this thrown book at Chamberpot Publishers, as Pottage of the Month. Mmmmm. Worth every $49.95. Hurry!
posted by The Mayor at 8:37 PM
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