Hello, hot and friendly succulent dames inhabiting the cyber world.
Is this post about me? No, I'd say it's about you. You've been scouring Craigslist perhaps for dumps and giggles or out of a genuine interest in finding your dream significant other. Well scour no longer, cunt. I'm a bit of a blunt motherfucker, so you'll have to excuse my French. Don't mind it, I'm cultured and familiar with New Wave French cinema. My nosebleeds and seizures are at a minimum as of late, so that makes up for my social shortcomings.
Man, ever been with a man that has seizures? It ain't nothing like being with a rich man or a man with a libido, but it's the next best thing. Always I overhear bitches talking about wanting a spontaneous man and it doesn't get more erratic than this. In order to keep etiquette or whatnot I try to minimize its effect over my body by standing as still as possible. It looks like I'm struggling not to break into a chicken dance. My foaming mouth makes for a humorous conversation piece with colleagues afterward.
My heavy smoking means foam ain't the only odd thing exiting my mouth on the regular. That's right, I cough up blood, but your snatch does too and us men aren't any less willing to fuck you so this shouldn't be a problem. It's whatever.
Look, I'll treat you nice, alright? I won't call your Mother a whore on Thanksgiving, I'm not that dude. I will only do so when provoked, like when she tells me to put on a jacket to fend off seasonal illness (I abide by no one's rules). I generally have absolutely no problem with people provided they're not greeks, gays, or persist that the Holocaust happened.
It's the 2009s, you can't expect a brother to act all congenial at the expense of not keeping it real. Yet people bad mouth me as intolerant. If they're so smart and idealistic and tolerant, why won't they let me be? I mean, what the fuck is the problem with being a bigot? Hating on bigots is like saying rainbows should exclude the color blue. Embrace every facet of life I say.
But yes, back to you. Ahh, you. You're still reading. That means you must be my Queen. My Fairuza Balk in American History X willing to let me carve a swastika in her back while I'm hitting that ultra-wet hate-snatch doggystyle. I want us to know true romance. I want you to experience fun events such as bowling and walking. Even we can eat out sometimes. Anything on BK's dollar menu will be yours to treasure (under 5 items, please). Nothing will be spared for you.
Cold nights with us will become warm. You'll cozy up to me as your man and rightful owner. I will grab your hips and caress your tender ribs and your ivory Aryan gut-stomach. I will take you by shoving my wand into your beartrap before creating a storm inside you so virile and vile and vulgar our alpha male son will be born instantly. He will exit your womb himself holding a machete and severing his own umbilical cord. Surrendering to his Oedipus impulses, he will stab me in the heart as I whimper, "I love you, Son," in a dying breath. Because of this we'll have to mate at hospitals.
Yet as the perfect alpha male son, he will proceed to rape you with such lust that he too will instantly create a son twice as superior to him. That son will kill him and fuck you again creating another son instantly. The cycle continues almost infinitely until your vagina can no longer birth such large men and a doctor complains about all the muscular dead Fathers in the room with machetes in their hearts creating a safety hazard.
The last son born splits you right in two before the final son stabs his Dad and the doctor in the heart. He then buries you, and your tombstone he has engraved with the following: "To my greatest of Mothers... wish I would've got to fuck her." He leaves you fresh roses and tears daily. He then spends the remainder of his life studying Freud and slaying the alien/dragon hybrid lifeforms that recently invaded Earth, much to the satisfaction of the American people.
If sleeping with me sounds appealing, please send an email. Make sure to put "want to be with you" as the subject so I know you're not a robot.
Forever yours,
Sam
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