https://litter.catbox.moe/76bq5uncvnxu2n3i.pdf

>>25545294
but ultimately decided against it. He had

derived his jouissance from archetextual immanence, which

cured his wanker's cramp overnight. Byron laughed

eyeing Pooja with curiosity. An exotic allurement

ripe for the plucking. Pooja was not

alluring in an ugly, smelly, brown way

but in an acquired taste kinda way.

"Knock" "Knock"

Ranjeet noticed Pooja returning Byron's gaze. Furious,

he threw himself over a cliff edge.

What was the worth of passion's pledge,

when passed around freely, with surreptitious abandon?

Now burning and torture is redeemed eternally

*shlop shlop shlop*

in the eternal dawning of the day.

Even the perfidious vultures scorned his body

and he, a creature made of clay,

But take heed of the stinking carrion,

just like that guy from Fantastic 4!

Byron threw some marvel trivia at Pooja

he basedfaced every time she answered correctly

But to no avail. Pooja remained steadfastly

set on intercourse only. No small talk

Ripe for the plucking, indeed! She asked

"Is it racist to call you Sir?"

Byron ignored her question and thought about

The McChicken burger, the best burger ever

Meemaw always made the best McChicken burgers

. Those childhood summers at the lodge had

traumatized him forever. Intercourse was not a possibility.

"Pooja wait... there's something I must confess

. I've never told anyone this before, but

As a child, my foreskin was stolen

>>25545475
the surgeon was dressed as Ronald McDonald

but his legal name was Sir Meemaw

and his lineage was thus: Meemawstrautus of

Nineveh, son of Claudius, son of Jordan

son of Sheldon, son of 2pac, son

>>25545501
of demiurge. Gallivanting and bezoomny, the crotchety

fluorescent ghastly figure grabbed by the pussy

, he could fence, dance, sew, act, wrestle,

Pooja cut Byron off. She was

missing a word but she continued on

dying, like that woman from Forrest Gump

She was already familiar with Meemaws lineage.

All too familiar, in fact. Meemaw had

an orgy with seven dirty indian men

while Pooja was forced to watch, tied

Meemaw was diminutive for the Prophet Muhammad

“Crimmy crummy gumdrop bimmy pinny Slothrop”

Pooja was luring Byron with a song

“Is this some kind of luring song?”

asked Byron, well aware of the answer.

"No saaaar it's just redeeming song ok"

Byron was taken aback at this because

he had a degree in redemption studies.

The looming intercourse preoccupied his anxious mind

Pooja was unrelenting; she quickly grabbed a

>>25545556
hold of his cock and started suckin

>>25545556
large brown log larger than a localmotive.

She had always been obsessed with trains.

>>25545561
>>25545566
and looked at it, and said, "Shit!"

Her memory of Sir Meemaw's abuse resurfaced.

The smell of fresh McChicken burger wafted

>>25545599
, and slowly but surely her mascara ran

down her cheeks like Sir Meemaws ejaculate.

>>25545602
had done all those years ago. She

whispered, quivering, all dread, "He is near."

Pooja had been suckin' on a poo!

Pooja looked up and cursed her existence.

Byron smiled mischievously. "Enjoyed the turd, bitch?"

Pooja let out a resigned, apathetic sigh.

Her life was like some farcical dream

dreamed up by the collective imagination of

the users of 4chan's literature board.

It's like that y'all (That ya'll), like

>>25545649
Pooja tried rapping to lift her spirits.

y'all hate me coz you ain't me

Byron contributed a verse of his own.

"Smack a hoe with muh pimp cane,

I'm a loquacious, salacious type of nigga

rap battle me and cry in pain

tears crescendo while muh dick gets bigga

'Cuz no god ain't neva die, dey

…”
Pooja cried more, grappling with the reality

white women be lustin' for dem BBC's"

rapped MC Poojeet, the 85IQ Indian rapper

before throwing himself over a cliff edge.

Electrocuted and hit by a train also.

Dalits began crawling out of the shadows

and they too jumped to their deaths.

Sir Meemaw, obscured in the shadows, grinned

his grotesquely swollen tumescence dribbled sticky ejaculate

and but so in so far as

“Oh Pooja my dove, Byron my stag

."
here, Sir Meemaw was quoting Oswald Spengler.

The caucasian nigger. Whence perchance he fellated

three men simultaneously. Three big men.

Meemaw had never read Spengler, of course,

he had nyo clew what schpenglew even

. Anyway, to recap the story thus far:

it was good and bad times, ayy.

Pooja wanted intercourse, Byron didnt. Reason: trauma.

Dalits committed ritualistic suicide. Reason: they're dalits.

Meemaw status: hidden, dripping. Reason: villainous figure.

Pooja started watching her favorite youtube channel.1