So a dyslexic walks into a bra
That's it. That's the joke. What do you want, a cookie?
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I'M SO WITTY
RUNNING THIS INTO THE GROUND
HAHAHAHAHA
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
And the bratender says "what'll it be?"
So, the man says "just a glass of milk, please".
The bratender shakes his head and points at the sign by the door. "Sorry, mate. Milk's only for three-year-olds and younger".
"Huh. Oh, I thought it said 30 and under!" The first seal is broken, and a can of laughter opens itself, allowing the cursed giggles to escape into the world and soften the hearty guffaws of honorable men.
"We do have other products available" continues the bratender, ignorant of the plight inflicted on mankind. "Right now, the owner's at the gym, so we're having a special on sweat!"
"I'm...not certain that sweat's potable" said the dyslexic man, who's beginning to notice the bratender's heavy breathing and hairy palms.
"Oh, no! It's perfectly safe! After all, the sweat of the poor is what gives fast food it's flavour." The second seal is broken, and the sky is torn open, revealing the ceiling of a sound stage. Men and women prostrate themselves in fear.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
You can't.
It's not of legal age yet.
Yarrun, you should read Barthelme and then be him.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
"I'll have the, uh, Sex on the Beach." The bratender pulls a schedule from what seems to be a fur-lined toque. It wavers with every breath he takes.
"Uh, nope, sorry. The owner's boyfriend doesn't get off work until ten, and the beach's closed for the season anyways." The third seal is broken. A falcon is given an iPod that only plays Nickelback songs at high volume. Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold. William Butler Yeats climbs out of his grave and sails to Byzantium. He receives the senior discount, and the scourge of the living takes the 7:30 to Bethlehem.
"Right, just give me a moment then." The dyslexic man looks behind him and sees that there are no other patrons in the bra. He rubs his fingers together nervously. "Uh, if you don't mind me asking, who is the owner anyway?"
"Her name is Namira Basta. She's a graduate of Tulane University, where she majored in divinity and biochemistry. She has black hair, blue eyes and a forked tongue. She exercises at the gym every Tuesday and owns a pet ferret. She likes to wear long, flowing dresses when she takes walks in the park. Oh, and she's a C cup." The bratender pours himself a mug of sweat as the dyslexic man looked on in bemusement. Slowly, he drinks it, smiling, staring intently at the dyslexic man. When he finishes, he smashes the mug onto the floor and stomped on it, his smile never leaving his face. The dyslexic man could have sworn that he heard hooves instead of feet.
i get so angry sometimes i just punch plankton --Klinotaxis
please
i get so angry sometimes i just punch plankton --Klinotaxis
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
"N-no, I don't think I will."
"Aww, come on, do me a solid. To be perfectly honest, you're the only person who's been in here all day." The bratender looks at the dyslexic man hungrily. The dyslexic man notices that his teeth have a distinctly carmine tint.
Slowly, and then very very quickly, the dyslexic man flees to the nearest door. He flings the door open, only to find the bratender polishing the same mug he had just smashed against the ground. He stands in shock, his jaw opening and closing.
"What? You didn't know the bra had two cups?" The fifth seal is broken. The camera pans back to reveal that the universe exists in a TV. A white, surburban family and their German Shepherd are watching the TV in their cottage-like house. They share a bowl of lightly salted popcorn, because that's what white surburban families do.
The tall father whispers "continue".
The queenly mother whispers "please, carry on, please".
The kids sing "we would like some cookies please".
The dog coughs up a human heart and growls "brasilisk, awaken".
i get so angry sometimes i just punch plankton --Klinotaxis
i get so angry sometimes i just punch plankton --Klinotaxis
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
this is a tumblr.
this is... tumblr.
☭
B̤̺͍̰͕̺̠̕u҉̖͙̝̮͕̲ͅm̟̼̦̠̹̙p͡s̹͖ ̻T́h̗̫͈̙̩r̮e̴̩̺̖̠̭̜ͅa̛̪̟͍̣͎͖̺d͉̦͠s͕̞͚̲͍ ̲̬̹̤Y̻̤̱o̭͠u̥͉̥̜͡ ̴̥̪D̳̲̳̤o̴͙̘͓̤̟̗͇n̰̗̞̼̳͙͖͢'҉͖t̳͓̣͍̗̰ ͉W̝̳͓̼͜a̗͉̳͖̘̮n͕ͅt͚̟͚ ̸̺T̜̖̖̺͎̱ͅo̭̪̰̼̥̜ ̼͍̟̝R̝̹̮̭ͅͅe̡̗͇a͍̘̤͉͘d̼̜ 
⚢
☭
B̤̺͍̰͕̺̠̕u҉̖͙̝̮͕̲ͅm̟̼̦̠̹̙p͡s̹͖ ̻T́h̗̫͈̙̩r̮e̴̩̺̖̠̭̜ͅa̛̪̟͍̣͎͖̺d͉̦͠s͕̞͚̲͍ ̲̬̹̤Y̻̤̱o̭͠u̥͉̥̜͡ ̴̥̪D̳̲̳̤o̴͙̘͓̤̟̗͇n̰̗̞̼̳͙͖͢'҉͖t̳͓̣͍̗̰ ͉W̝̳͓̼͜a̗͉̳͖̘̮n͕ͅt͚̟͚ ̸̺T̜̖̖̺͎̱ͅo̭̪̰̼̥̜ ̼͍̟̝R̝̹̮̭ͅͅe̡̗͇a͍̘̤͉͘d̼̜ 
⚢
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
The camera fades back into the bra. The dyslexic man has regained his composure. The bratender is smiling with his lips but pleading with his eyes, his very soul. The dyslexic man takes a deep breath and reads the menu again.
"I'll have your favorite." The bratender stops polishing and raises an eyebrow. The eyes relax.
"Certainly, sir." The bratender opens three kegs in sequence and passes the mug beneath them. The first keg spits out brown sludge, and the second drips out something...carmine. The third appeared to drip out nothing at at all, but there was a loud plop when the cup was passed under it. He gives it to the dyslexic man, who shudders at the very sight of it.
He takes the cup and pulls it to his mouth. His entire body trembles as he struggles to part his lips and drink.
"Come on..." whispers the bratender. The dyslexic man feels every meal he ever ate fighting to get out of his stomach.
"Come on!" The dyslexic man is crying. The lips begin to part.
"You're inside a woman's bra! This is no time to be backing out!" The sixth seal is broken. Every living person is given the script to their lives, from their birth to their death. No one can get over how badly written the plot is and how unrealistic the characters are. They attempt to change the scripts, but they're all laminated. They try to kill themselves, but it's not time yet.
even though that one was mostly the corporal's
i get so angry sometimes i just punch plankton --Klinotaxis
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
大學的年同性戀毛皮
aaaaa
i get so angry sometimes i just punch plankton --Klinotaxis
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
"Well, that was certainly a drink. I believe I'll be on my way now." The dyslexic man stumbles towards the exit, where light shines through the cracks. The bratender sighs and leans against a keg. The sketch has ended, and the world will continue.
"Oh, one more thing" said the dyslexic man, turning around at the threshold. "I have to say, I enjoyed this experience. It was nice to get a feel for this pla..." The man stops. He silently mouths "I'm sorry" to the bratender.
The seventh seal breaks.
The Dyslexic Man............Tom Hanks
The Bratender...............Idris Elba
Canned Laughter................Will Ferrell
Prostate People..............Who Cares
Falcon......................Neil Patrick Harris
W.B. Yeats.................A Skeleton
Scourge..................Lars Ulrich
Tulane University...............Duke University
Ferret.........Joseph Gordon-Levitt
Rat King......................John Travolta
White Surburban Family.......Themselves
German Shepherd..............Robert Pattison
Namira Basta.........Zooey Deschanel
Script Readers............Again, Who Cares
Falcon Trainer...............Lana Del Rey
Mysterious Fluids Provider..........Skeleton
Physics Defier.....................Keanu Reeves
Teeth Tinter......................Skeleton Again
Camera Guy...................Different Skeleton
Skeleton Manager.......Tim the Necromancer
Director, Producer, etc..........Institutionalized
We Would Like to Thank our Friends for Their Support, the Local Cemetary for their Continued Silence, and Viewers Like You, But Prettier.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Still needs revision. Also, why did I cast Robert Pattison as a German Shepherd? How does that even work?
大學的年同性戀毛皮
aaaaa