Jesus, Mickey.
“We did, though! All of us together, pulsing and throbbing in rhythm. There was also thrusting.”
Ew.
“And those that could not thrust were juicy.”
Weird.
“Were our boners made from drums, or our drums from boners?”
Neither.
“Don’t call me to the blackboard, teacher: I’m here with my friends, pulsing and throbbing.”
Stop.
“Last night, Oteil pulsed while I throbbed; this night, we switch. He got sore.”
What?
“Thrulsing.”
Nope.
“Pobbing”
Nuh-uh.
“GlaaaarMAAAflarn.
You’re just making sounds now, Mickey.
“Drums!”
Good talk.
that’s a great picture. kinda looks like Sammy Hagar.
Thanks for your dedication to documenting the ridiculous, you sir are a curator of ridiculousness.
i have to admit that drums and space is some strange stuff …