And when the
700 Club
talks about delightful, inspiring life stories, this ain’t that because the harder Cannibal sucks the harder it gets because the suction is sucking back. Because he’s battling her wet insides in this tug-of-war over nothing.
Cannibal is wearing Marcia Sanders like a gas mask, sucking on her like she’s a snake bite with her thighs so earmuffed tight to the sides of his head he can’t hear why she’s screaming. Because on the Playboy Network, screaming is what you strive for. Cannibal’s freaked out because a blue waffle on cable only smells like whatever your mom’s cooking upstairs. Because a ham wallet on television never fights back, Cannibal sucks the way a tornado on the Weather Channel will bust one window and turn your entire house inside out.
Because Cannibal’s never eaten a muff pie, he thinks the waterbed’s sprung a leak because he hears a pop inside his head. It’s like your ears pop when you ride a too-fast elevator to the top of the Sears Tower. Like when you snap your chewing gum or bite down on a ripe cherry tomato.
He figures the mattress is popped because what happens next is he’s coughing water that tastes like tears. Because it’s gallons, like Tammy Faye Bakker’s cried a hundred years inside his mouth, and because Cannibal’s never chowed down on a blue waffle the next thing he knows is that he’s killed her because it’s her insides gushing down his throat. Because she’s hollering like a truck stop diner. All this happens in not even two heartbeats, but because he’s watched the Playboy Network the next thing Cannibal knows is that he’s made her gusher buckets of lady soup straight into his gullet. Because he’s seen those videos where ladies geyser from jerking off, big spumes like Animal Planet whales spouting or those fire boats hosing down the Statue of Liberty during a Bicentennial Moment. Because he’s seen their big sprays of lady gravy soaking into the orange-cheese-colored shag carpeting they always have in Playboy movies, Cannibal knows enough about lady juice not to spit it out, because the worst way to insult somebody is not to swallow what she’s serving up.
Because his only experience with lady sauce is from cable TV, Cannibal doesn’t realize there’s a chunk of something solid mixed in. Not right away. Because bumping between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, right now, is this salt-flavored jellybean. It’s a kidney bean that tastes like the water in a jar of pickles. It’s knocking around like the last green olive in a jar of boiling-hot olive water. And because it’s so small Cannibal just gulps it down.
Because half the time Cannibal doesn’t know what he’s thinking, he says, “You did it.”
Marcia Sanders is fishing a fresh cotton pony out from her purse and goes, “I swear to you I didn’t know.” She never even takes off her top, and already she’s zipping up her jeans.
And Cannibal goes, “I made you come.”
She opens her mouth but doesn’t say anything because then the doorbell rings, and it’s her real boyfriend.
Because Cannibal makes Marcia Sanders geyser so hard she has to take a Tylenol and strap on a pussy plug, Cannibal knows he’s a stud. Because Marcia Sanders must brag to Linda Reynolds because Linda Reynolds sidles up next to him outside the Chemistry modules and asks if he can be her secret boyfriend, too. Because Cannibal gobbles meat muffin so good Patty Watson wants a piece of his action because he makes every fur burger spout heaping helpings of special sauce. Because the quickest way to a woman’s heart is through a man’s stomach.
Because how far would a high schooler go to get back the rest of her life? And because Cannibal is giving everybody another shot at being virgins. He’s everybody’s dirty little secret, except he’s not so secret. He brags like his every word’s wearing sunglasses. And because he’s not so little, not anymore. Because Cannibal’s getting fat on
700 Club
talks about delightful, inspiring life stories, this ain’t that because the harder Cannibal sucks the harder it gets because the suction is sucking back. Because he’s battling her wet insides in this tug-of-war over nothing.
Cannibal is wearing Marcia Sanders like a gas mask, sucking on her like she’s a snake bite with her thighs so earmuffed tight to the sides of his head he can’t hear why she’s screaming. Because on the Playboy Network, screaming is what you strive for. Cannibal’s freaked out because a blue waffle on cable only smells like whatever your mom’s cooking upstairs. Because a ham wallet on television never fights back, Cannibal sucks the way a tornado on the Weather Channel will bust one window and turn your entire house inside out.
Because Cannibal’s never eaten a muff pie, he thinks the waterbed’s sprung a leak because he hears a pop inside his head. It’s like your ears pop when you ride a too-fast elevator to the top of the Sears Tower. Like when you snap your chewing gum or bite down on a ripe cherry tomato.
He figures the mattress is popped because what happens next is he’s coughing water that tastes like tears. Because it’s gallons, like Tammy Faye Bakker’s cried a hundred years inside his mouth, and because Cannibal’s never chowed down on a blue waffle the next thing he knows is that he’s killed her because it’s her insides gushing down his throat. Because she’s hollering like a truck stop diner. All this happens in not even two heartbeats, but because he’s watched the Playboy Network the next thing Cannibal knows is that he’s made her gusher buckets of lady soup straight into his gullet. Because he’s seen those videos where ladies geyser from jerking off, big spumes like Animal Planet whales spouting or those fire boats hosing down the Statue of Liberty during a Bicentennial Moment. Because he’s seen their big sprays of lady gravy soaking into the orange-cheese-colored shag carpeting they always have in Playboy movies, Cannibal knows enough about lady juice not to spit it out, because the worst way to insult somebody is not to swallow what she’s serving up.
Because his only experience with lady sauce is from cable TV, Cannibal doesn’t realize there’s a chunk of something solid mixed in. Not right away. Because bumping between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, right now, is this salt-flavored jellybean. It’s a kidney bean that tastes like the water in a jar of pickles. It’s knocking around like the last green olive in a jar of boiling-hot olive water. And because it’s so small Cannibal just gulps it down.
Because half the time Cannibal doesn’t know what he’s thinking, he says, “You did it.”
Marcia Sanders is fishing a fresh cotton pony out from her purse and goes, “I swear to you I didn’t know.” She never even takes off her top, and already she’s zipping up her jeans.
And Cannibal goes, “I made you come.”
She opens her mouth but doesn’t say anything because then the doorbell rings, and it’s her real boyfriend.
Because Cannibal makes Marcia Sanders geyser so hard she has to take a Tylenol and strap on a pussy plug, Cannibal knows he’s a stud. Because Marcia Sanders must brag to Linda Reynolds because Linda Reynolds sidles up next to him outside the Chemistry modules and asks if he can be her secret boyfriend, too. Because Cannibal gobbles meat muffin so good Patty Watson wants a piece of his action because he makes every fur burger spout heaping helpings of special sauce. Because the quickest way to a woman’s heart is through a man’s stomach.
Because how far would a high schooler go to get back the rest of her life? And because Cannibal is giving everybody another shot at being virgins. He’s everybody’s dirty little secret, except he’s not so secret. He brags like his every word’s wearing sunglasses. And because he’s not so little, not anymore. Because Cannibal’s getting fat on
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