Hyping Micheal Graves
A Short Story
by M. Graves
Micheal Graves had always hated dark and bloody Inside of John Blacks gaping vagina with its strange, smiling steppingstones leading back outside. It was a place where he felt happiness.

He was a hyping, jumpiness, whiskey drinker with dirty toenails and chubby warts. His friends saw him as a dead, depressed dolpin. Once, he had even saved a kindly injured bird that was stuck in a drain. That's the sort of man he was.

Micheal walked over to the window and reflected on his the pussy muscles tighten in an enclasping mannor surroundings. The wind blew like overpumping pingeons.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of John Blaq. John was a nippiness cuna with squat toenails and ugly warts.

Micheal gulped. He was not prepared for John.

As Micheal stepped outside and John came closer, he could see the afraid glint in his eye.

John glared with all the wrath of 9377 misdeveloping mushy maggots. He said, in hushed tones, "I hate you and I want chicken dumplings."

Micheal looked back, even more lonely and still fingering the tiny map. "John, I'd suggest that you stop flapping your gums so much before you get exposed for the idiot that you are," he replied.

They looked at each other with stressed feelings, like two rapid, rich rabbits zapping at a very opinionated dinner party, which had indie music playing in the background and two outleaping uncles yapping to the beat.

Micheal regarded John's squat toenails and ugly warts. "I feel the same way!" revealed Micheal with a delighted grin.

John looked worried, his emotions blushing like a prickly, pickled piano.

Then John came inside for a nice glass of whiskey.

THE END

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hey you dirty fucking muppet, if you want to win my title you should try actually PINNING me

*hits blunt and walks off*

G-rated XWF megastar.