Elan’s crying was so loud it woke a recovering Timmeh. ‘What do you want bruh?’ he said, obviously triggered as he readied his sore man breast for a feeding. “Your nearly ready for solids bruh, tomorrow I might ad hoc you some potato word salad.”
He looked into the hand mirror and asked if he was the fairest single mother on Mars.
His head was still spinning like stars around a southern celestial pole from his repulsive night with GED. Timmeh adjusted his beenie not only to stop the spinning, but also to stop all the sophist meme knowledge in his head from exploding out as he put on his harvesting uniform.
Pant legs cut just above his pasty white ankles, man sandals (mandals) made his breathing toes look like dainty sticks of milk, something Elon once said to him after a night of potato fuelled erotica.
After spying on Timmeh and baby Elan from above long enough for him to arrive at a jealous conclusion, Bezos raged as he smashed the console of his flying space phallus. “Elon, you swore you’d never lay a slow meat stick on anyone but me!” To which Elon appeared (as his persona had now reached god mode status).
“Bezos,..it’s not as it seems.. aim your wonky seeing holes at mine and know that my noise words true you.” Elon speaking captivated Bezos and his knees weakened in the passionate admiration of the bearer of his unrequited love. Bezos cried..
His artificial womb longing for a creation of its own, would be empty forever from the replicated essence of life force. He warped his feelings intentionally based on saint stephen hawking’s theory of space time and vowed to enact a jealous revenge plot on Timmeh
END OF SEASON 1.
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