Bastard Factory slides softly through the moist rail of your intestine, tiny chunklets of resinous poo splatter onto your face, I am after the smell of a pink Velveeta shell. Deeper. I am now licking the sweat from the admins belly as she squirts more diet Tar Tar sauce into her lazy innards and here I am still chasing the smell of that pink Velveeta shell.

As grease splats on the fresh paint, I shimmy against the slimy asphalt, taking the path of bubbled glass, Ruby & I make love as we fry the candy corn highway sniggering at the smell of her pink Velveeta shell.