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The when the where the who and the how to as who'd havin seques wit'. Breakfast
Knife buttoned his shirt up and looked in the mirror at his decaying teeth.
"Guonna kneed sum Barbasol eye' fashion" he thought to himself. He had stroked
himself to near qlimax all week, and had been saving his stockpile for the
phinal blow.....a night in Leeds with his forthright predecessor, Doctor Beans.
"Brek!" yelled co-associate Benneman as he tossed him his vanity kit.
"Thanques" inquired Breakfast to his peer-in-homage. "Don't need to travel
alone without a rembrandt, aye' Brek?" "Yu've always hadue an eye for a
hipue..whut wud eye du without yu?!". "Be dead I'd bargain." "Huh huh huh.."
Knife chuckled. The winged journey from Qonnectiqut to Leeds had been long and
rotten, but as the midget rubbers of the airline piss-n-boots hit the ground,
Breakfast's brow furrowed to the breadth of the dusking sun...twas now 8:11
p.m., July 16th. Beans was to meet him at the Burnside Genital Hospital
roughly 6 miles from the airport. Beans was not the mans real name, it was
Bourgeneise...Wyatt Bourgeneise, but the rather lavish, bizarre, but charmingly
comical manner in which Breakfast would speak Wyatt's last name, in a Hiddish,
off-mannered Mongerian vocabulary, it would come out more like "Borrjeneeans",
so it was reduced to "Beans", and thats where it came from, Doctor Beans. They
had been planning the fucknight for months. On a mutual agreement, mainly from
Breakfast's part, they deemed the awaiting night of bliss, "Beowulf".
Breakfast could not wait to meet up with Beans and encounter "Beowulf" for the
first time, for his semen horde had grown so mighty, that his testicles had
formed a rather obtuse third sack directly in the center, nursing the womb of
cum. Breakfast longed for Beans. The attraction came from when Knife had been
necking with a ladydove under the Hurendo Bridge when he had caught a glimpse
of a bagel from a cab. The bagel looked so fuckin dope that he had to have it.
As the cab stopped immediately at a red light on Greenlee Avenue, he quickly
dashed toward the vehicle and wailed a brick through the rear windshield. The
driver stunned, Titknife, I mean Breakfast Knife, and grabbed the passenger by
the jacket, tugged him through the window, and beat him to death, and the cab
drove off with the bagel inside. He kicked and beat the man, and finished him
off with what he liked to call a "Biledrive" in which he shit on a linguini,
eats the poop and then jump up and stomp on the victim's head until it bursts
like a melon, or a dyke. The man he murdered was in fact Wyatt Bourgeneise.
He left the body of the 62 year old stock trader from Albany to rot in the
meadows behind the Hurendo Valley of upstate New York. Then after about 7
months he realized he wanted to fuck the corpse. As Breakfast Knife went to
hail a cab, he saw a sign that read "Leeds Linen Compository." He then
realized he had taken a plane to Leeds in northern England for no reason other
than the fact that he was watching a special on Leeds the other night on the
travel channel. So, he realized that hes real dumb and that he needs to go back
home, but he was out of money, so he sucked a bunch of peddlers for 2 months to
earn the money for a flight (plight) home. He took a plane to New York City
which was to land at La Guardia Airport the next morning at roughly 8:30 a.m.
He still had never ejaculated from 2 months ago when awaiting "Beowulf", so, as
the plane was approaching New York, Breakfast couldnt control hiz-selghue, and
his stockpile came barreling out of his mangina, nearly 32 liters, straight
into the cockpit, debunking the mechanics of the airplane, causing the pilots
to get electrocuted. Knowing he had fucked up, Knife ran into the cockpit,
determined to hopefully land the plane on his own, but the plane was
approaching 2 large identical-looking skyscrapers with thousands of tiny
offices in them. Looking at the buildings closely, Breakfast Knife knew he
needed staples to shove into his neck because he had a neck-mangling fetish, so
he decided to real quick stop into one of the buildings and grab some, but he
didnt realize that the plane wouldnt just stop and float in midair until he
walked on oxygen into the 77th floor so that someone would give him staples, so
he accidently ran into it and killed everyone in the plane and the building
because it collapsed a little later on. Apparently there were a few other
mongres on different planes that needed staples too that day. Those dykes will
never learn. DA ENDUE.
Knife buttoned his shirt up and looked in the mirror at his decaying teeth.
"Guonna kneed sum Barbasol eye' fashion" he thought to himself. He had stroked
himself to near qlimax all week, and had been saving his stockpile for the
phinal blow.....a night in Leeds with his forthright predecessor, Doctor Beans.
"Brek!" yelled co-associate Benneman as he tossed him his vanity kit.
"Thanques" inquired Breakfast to his peer-in-homage. "Don't need to travel
alone without a rembrandt, aye' Brek?" "Yu've always hadue an eye for a
hipue..whut wud eye du without yu?!". "Be dead I'd bargain." "Huh huh huh.."
Knife chuckled. The winged journey from Qonnectiqut to Leeds had been long and
rotten, but as the midget rubbers of the airline piss-n-boots hit the ground,
Breakfast's brow furrowed to the breadth of the dusking sun...twas now 8:11
p.m., July 16th. Beans was to meet him at the Burnside Genital Hospital
roughly 6 miles from the airport. Beans was not the mans real name, it was
Bourgeneise...Wyatt Bourgeneise, but the rather lavish, bizarre, but charmingly
comical manner in which Breakfast would speak Wyatt's last name, in a Hiddish,
off-mannered Mongerian vocabulary, it would come out more like "Borrjeneeans",
so it was reduced to "Beans", and thats where it came from, Doctor Beans. They
had been planning the fucknight for months. On a mutual agreement, mainly from
Breakfast's part, they deemed the awaiting night of bliss, "Beowulf".
Breakfast could not wait to meet up with Beans and encounter "Beowulf" for the
first time, for his semen horde had grown so mighty, that his testicles had
formed a rather obtuse third sack directly in the center, nursing the womb of
cum. Breakfast longed for Beans. The attraction came from when Knife had been
necking with a ladydove under the Hurendo Bridge when he had caught a glimpse
of a bagel from a cab. The bagel looked so fuckin dope that he had to have it.
As the cab stopped immediately at a red light on Greenlee Avenue, he quickly
dashed toward the vehicle and wailed a brick through the rear windshield. The
driver stunned, Titknife, I mean Breakfast Knife, and grabbed the passenger by
the jacket, tugged him through the window, and beat him to death, and the cab
drove off with the bagel inside. He kicked and beat the man, and finished him
off with what he liked to call a "Biledrive" in which he shit on a linguini,
eats the poop and then jump up and stomp on the victim's head until it bursts
like a melon, or a dyke. The man he murdered was in fact Wyatt Bourgeneise.
He left the body of the 62 year old stock trader from Albany to rot in the
meadows behind the Hurendo Valley of upstate New York. Then after about 7
months he realized he wanted to fuck the corpse. As Breakfast Knife went to
hail a cab, he saw a sign that read "Leeds Linen Compository." He then
realized he had taken a plane to Leeds in northern England for no reason other
than the fact that he was watching a special on Leeds the other night on the
travel channel. So, he realized that hes real dumb and that he needs to go back
home, but he was out of money, so he sucked a bunch of peddlers for 2 months to
earn the money for a flight (plight) home. He took a plane to New York City
which was to land at La Guardia Airport the next morning at roughly 8:30 a.m.
He still had never ejaculated from 2 months ago when awaiting "Beowulf", so, as
the plane was approaching New York, Breakfast couldnt control hiz-selghue, and
his stockpile came barreling out of his mangina, nearly 32 liters, straight
into the cockpit, debunking the mechanics of the airplane, causing the pilots
to get electrocuted. Knowing he had fucked up, Knife ran into the cockpit,
determined to hopefully land the plane on his own, but the plane was
approaching 2 large identical-looking skyscrapers with thousands of tiny
offices in them. Looking at the buildings closely, Breakfast Knife knew he
needed staples to shove into his neck because he had a neck-mangling fetish, so
he decided to real quick stop into one of the buildings and grab some, but he
didnt realize that the plane wouldnt just stop and float in midair until he
walked on oxygen into the 77th floor so that someone would give him staples, so
he accidently ran into it and killed everyone in the plane and the building
because it collapsed a little later on. Apparently there were a few other
mongres on different planes that needed staples too that day. Those dykes will
never learn. DA ENDUE.
