Chapter 4

In The Store Bin

Yeah, homie and me collided! Like, head to head! We went head over tumbly heels into the store bin! The store bin was where all the stuff was. We had a few that we liked! But I ate my turkey before the meatballs, if you know me, be that way, because I am just not a tribe-zero player, you dig me, my homeislice? He said he wouldn't rather be an Alexei rather than an idiot, so he idiota'd himself into an idjit factory and then told me all about it. *glare* that was cancelled! I told him he didn't need one, he needed two go! We ran and he told me my dance was solid proof that I was bored. Not boned, that was last night, but then he told me he was ancient history. I said, ancient, shmancient, how are you doing? He said his felhumanity was on the line. I told my vampire wife, who was the Devil too, as there was only one and I didn't understand it, that I understooded, and *glare"'d at her wallet that was in the car. We needed *her* money because I didn't *have* my money being that Eggship used the Qatar or something awesome like that instead of real currency like a man, bro.

Felyne-Eggquill told me egg-plactly-loxively that he was down to ill. He took the craptacular right out of my mouth. And then filled it with shed dumpings. I was granted, not that okay, but kind of okay, when one of the things he said irked me. It was that Cat-boy's don't bounce nor dribble. *glare* We used his wallet to open my car door, bethinks, and it wasn't working, no way but how.

In the car were the keys to the future.

And the blade was the barrier to alarm.

I said we needed manchkins and he was a molnerpill away from jumping down my throat without the presbytaryan of his debridement. He said he had less than often times spoke of surprise.

I started dancing and then he was cats-eyed. And talking to. And talking over me. And then I was home.

He told my ex-aunt-and-uncle that he was staying the night. *glare* that was a nicer put-on than some of what he said, but not nicer than saying I don't want that. I am not nicer after all.

He said he was boner-driven like he was a mean pill and I was the lock and key devil. I said drabble on me whimsy, you're just a tight calhoun to my mean jiblets. I then jivved that the drunk honky here with the fuzzy wubblesome was just too cute to exist. They told me he was fine there. I said no way! They said then fucking leave then. I told them I needed my futanari devil waifu! They cracked the egg open and told me she wasn't going to live here forever, then. They then told me I needed to leave. I said *glare* because it was time to go back to having sex in their bizzouse!

I was now doing it in her bedroom. It was the one she smelled awful in. That meant she meant putty in my gloves. I used her in-Femhumanity to man's-occasional dumbbell rhythm and we made more sweet mosaic diplomacy. She told me she needed me to curse her out for her badnessity. I told her she was gone from the tight jamboree that was the 8'o'clock ramboree. And then she was honestly *glare* out the door. "Dum-dum-dum-dumbell!?" I screamed as I saw she was lifting weights. This meant she was dirt poor! She also told me she was hot. And I didn't need to be told that. *glare* It was something I knew. She told me she was having fun with the rocks and not the roller pins because I was not her *unglare*ful son. I used these lies to say that she was ice cold and on fire *at the same time* family A and to the U. ULD. I said be quiet honey. She said remember be sofi. And I said here's a ladder hun because nine times out of ten you're the top and I'm the bottom. She said never. And I said never as well. So we did it with me in a headlock and her in my my! I did my dance and walked away from that mean fierocity as a balaclava does shit she don't! One high five later and she told me right on, ponchacho, right on. Then she said she was heaven's to betsy adroit about a ninja family. And I was not berry nicely saying she was two tied dirt piles and an apple schmapple away from Bertrand and Russel both carousing her mean scythes. She said, any scythe, any time, and we both stole a look like sheeit. She said her cousin, I said my cousin-in-law. And that was the apple pie. Sweet cherry apple pie. Like a venus on a sundae, she said her sundance festival was the mestivus, not the cramrangoed pudding on top of her barely-there scuba diving outfit with the nerds and the *glare* jizz rope! Did she mop up the bucket? So yeah I was getting laid tonight as well! Honky dory!

Femhumanity to man it carn it devour. I ate something from a can and she had me with no flour. I ate her with a tepi-steppi and she was alrighty-goodbye. But we went out to her daddy's and he said no, that shit *glare* do fly because he is in *Agrabah* no it is Excypt, sonny. They were all Devil's, son. But were they all pointedly finger-phony? Her cousin had the deets. I texted him "Are all of your cousins, my-ex-cousin-in-law if you say this to *glare* anyone, okay? Futanari, smiley face?" and he replied "YES!!" with two tails what sir noree. I was ri-soul destroyer. She is not my type of family cup syrup, no way but how. How is a daddy gay!? I said this and he was delurpy-gurfed! He had to pommel and *glare*y nicely I let him stay in *our bedroom*, in the catbox I prepared for him.