Mr. Fuck and Mr. Shit Speak of the Jonas Brothers.
FUCK
I say, Mr. Shit, I sure enjoy the Jonas Brothers.
SHIT
As do I, my dear Fuck. Their musical genius makes my groin sing.
FUCK
My favorite Jonas brother is Ralph.
SHIT
There is no Jonas Brother by the name of Ralph.
FUCK
Are you certain? It was just this very morning that I was lying in bed, ballgag perfectly immobilizing my jaw, dreaming of a rousing rendezvous of rogering with Ralph Jonas.
SHIT
My dear fellow, Ralph Jonas is the homeless man who lives under the 16th Street bridge.
FUCK
I do not recall such a gentleman.
SHIT
Do not recall? We stick woodland creatures upon his manhood every Thursday evening.
FUCK
Of course! The fine fellow we fellated with a ferret!
SHIT
No, you are thing of Mr. Bailey Noel Tosment, the youth pastor in Carbondale. I speak of the man we meat-mangled with a macaw monkey.
FUCK
Ah, yes! It is now as clear as an Appalachian sunrise.
SHIT
Shall we masturbate to reruns of Gary Unmarried?
FUCK
Indubitably!
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1 comment:
Are you trying to bait me, Bauman? This is exactly the same as my "Mr. Peace and Mr. Kindness and Their Youth Pastor Bought a Beautiful Mermaid a Mackerel" but with some searching a replacing done. Although you left my out untouched.
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