- Joined
- Jul 6, 2015
@Miss Tommie Jayne Wasserberg finds himself in a dark, dreary room. It's deathly quiet and there's seemingly no one else around; or so he thinks.
There's the distant click of something being turned on. From the ceiling a beam of light shines down and illuminates a single, 1 person table. There's a dingy, sun-stained tablecloth covering most of it, one ratty ass chair with cigarette burns and a mostly melted candle.
@Miss Tommie Jayne Wasserberg finds himself beckoned to this table, hobbling his 100 year old turtle ass over and taking a seat. Given his usual lifestyle this might as well be heaven on Earth. There'a gurgle from his gut; could be hunger, could be his IBS. Fifty-fifty, really.
There's a clattering of some sort from the darkness...and as if beckoned by his rotgut a shadowy figure slowly emerges; it's some sort of naked, toe headed orge, covered from the tip of it's greasy forehead to it's trenchfoot in shitty, handrawn tattoos. Tommy had never seen anything so beautiful.
In one hand ADF was holding an old plastic milkcrate...in the other was a paper plate with a single slice of toast on it. Phil set the milkcrate down and put the plate right in the middle of the table; only to climb on up, wobbling in place for just a second before popping a squat.
@Miss Tommie Jayne Wasserburg watched as Philthy first blasted ass for a solid five seconds directly in his wilted face before a massive, steaming dollop of mutilated mancunt pus slopped onto that toast, streaked with red and brown.
Two hours later Tom and Phil were married, consummating their union on a ratty, urine soaked mattress at Toms favorite dumpster.
There's the distant click of something being turned on. From the ceiling a beam of light shines down and illuminates a single, 1 person table. There's a dingy, sun-stained tablecloth covering most of it, one ratty ass chair with cigarette burns and a mostly melted candle.
@Miss Tommie Jayne Wasserberg finds himself beckoned to this table, hobbling his 100 year old turtle ass over and taking a seat. Given his usual lifestyle this might as well be heaven on Earth. There'a gurgle from his gut; could be hunger, could be his IBS. Fifty-fifty, really.
There's a clattering of some sort from the darkness...and as if beckoned by his rotgut a shadowy figure slowly emerges; it's some sort of naked, toe headed orge, covered from the tip of it's greasy forehead to it's trenchfoot in shitty, handrawn tattoos. Tommy had never seen anything so beautiful.
In one hand ADF was holding an old plastic milkcrate...in the other was a paper plate with a single slice of toast on it. Phil set the milkcrate down and put the plate right in the middle of the table; only to climb on up, wobbling in place for just a second before popping a squat.
@Miss Tommie Jayne Wasserburg watched as Philthy first blasted ass for a solid five seconds directly in his wilted face before a massive, steaming dollop of mutilated mancunt pus slopped onto that toast, streaked with red and brown.
Two hours later Tom and Phil were married, consummating their union on a ratty, urine soaked mattress at Toms favorite dumpster.
