I warn you now, this service is going to be a real goat fuck.

So it is told and so it is written.

The story commands a real saucy, greasy, dirty one that gets you down low where it hurts and up top where it

tingles. When you hit the peak of delight and the basement of shame, you'll know these words

are true. The story must be told.

The story must be told. Before we read, I'd like to remind you of the blessed dirty boy of Prague.

He was a real stinky shitter, with a greasy pair of legs if you catch my drift.

His words rang true then and they ring true today. He spoke. Insanity is the

playground of a real stinky finger. If you call the cops, I swear to God, the shit's going to rain

hard on you. Remember these words. Embrace them as we dismount with this

psalm.

The children arrived at Mrs. Gepard's third grade class.

7.30 on the nose as the bell rang. But in the room, the lights were off. The windows were

closed. The erasers, they were not clapped of chalk. A real fucking stink came from the coat closet teddy

Strathmore the tallest boy held back six years zits on his nose grease on his

forehead crept towards the closet as the children held back sweat poured from his

stinky pits between both arms and legs as he got

closer to the door he knocked thrice to no avail he jiggled the handle neither did the door move

he turned his back as the door unlocked and the door cracked open, he peeked in and shrieked.

Hidden among the coats was a perfect, translucent model of Mrs. Gephardt.

It was her skin. She had molted, not unlike a cicada. At the skin statue's feet set to young girl,

her eyes matched Mrs. Gephardt's. I am born anew, she squeaked. I am young again,

...