. . . killermade good . . .
. . . I stab no more . . .
. . . I can makepain for effect . . .
. . . make of my Divine Servitude a comeback kid memoir, packed tight with cute little nostrums and Rules 4 Existence . . .
. . . there’s got to be new sources of truth . . .
. . . the masked-killer-turned-pseudo-intellectual-stand-up-comedy-hack-podcast-grifter-asshole realized,
"My God . . . I'm more ads for sketchy boner pills now than man!"
. . .killermade better . . .
. . . well you can't trust the, uh, what do we call it . . .
. . . it's got to be a medical establishment of some kind . . .
. . . I can makeenemy for effect . . .
And so he swallowed the free samples, got erect, and proceeded to record the audio of his own sloppy-slurpy auto-fellatio for seventy-six minutes, with an unconvincingly faked orgasm as a closer.
Fortunately, his in-studio fake laughter toadie was able to drive him to the emergency room after the recording to get a bloodletting procedure done to his prick.
Killer probably needed to avail himself of one of those sketchy privatized mental health subscriptions. Or just microdose himself with some Serpent Residue . . .
And on the next episode our sit-down stand-up scumbag was selling bottles of his dick blood as a vitality supplement.
And the toadie did howl and guffaw . . .
And all the dipshits with Next Level Daddy Issues in the audience quickdrew their credit cards . . .
Such wonderful people. Finding each other out there in the ether . . .
-March-November 2021
