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Story No. 346
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"I am sorry Mr Butress, be we have no option but to sandpaper your Glans!", the doctor announced. Quivering like a junkee's fist, Mr Butress fumbled with his yellowing shirt cuffs. In the vain hope of respite, he looked to the Nurse who
was busy doing pinochio, while doing a heart transplant on
a tiny baboon while it gently fellated the husk of a peanut
so hollow and rough and empty
buttocks which
parted as the oceans did for Moses.
Harold Bishop
acidgop
Raaaa
