Sunday, January 16, 2005
LuLo And Mr Jitsu
Public Service Announcement: This entry contains sexual content. If you feel that you belong to no gender, reading this entry might cause you to feel deprived and cause yo to commit suicide. Your death is not my responsiblity. Also, Kids under 16 years old are NOT allowed to view this entry. This is not a sex story. But it contains references to it.
Neocromancer: Juastiya Kukitpa Reportar De Soulum Restar Tahan!
The Soul of Reporter: Grrr.... I'm ALIVE!!!
2 days later....
The Soul of Reporter: Hi Robert! I'm back! And Im here to kill you!
Me: WOW! I So scare!
The Soul of Reporter: You better be!
Me: Why should I? You can't even comb pull your own ear. You are not a matter! How can you kill me?
The Soul of Reporter: I can learn the skill. The neocromance say i must do a report on you in order for him to teach me the power. So you better aswer my questions!
Me: What the fuck??
The Soul of Reporter: I don't care who you intend to fuck. First question: How is your life in AJC?
Me: Why should I help you kill me? Anyone who help anyone else to kill himself deserve to be dead more than anyone else.
(The Soul of Reporter took out a magical pill and push it into my ass. The pill is suppose to make the carrier answer all questions truthfully. It wears out after a certain amount of time.)
Me: Life in AJC is SU....ROCK!
The Soul of Reporter: Really?
Me: Really.
The Soul of Reporter: Did you have fun there?
Me: N..Yes!
The Soul of Reporter: Cool! Did you like any particular gal?
Me: Ye.....NOPE! I did .... n't
The Soul of Reporter: Which is th truth?
Me: This one.
The Soul of Reporter: What one?
Me: This what that one one.
The Soul of Reporter: Wht is that this one?
Me: That that is, is.
The Soul of Reporter: Very profound. I'll submit it to the "Nutcase, the best medicine" section of Reader's Diarroea.
Me: FUC... Fhan... Thank you you.
The Soul of Reporter: You are welcome. Now that i have got nothing from you, i may as well try to kill you right away.
Me: No, please don't. I know you can't kill.
The Soul of Reporter: I can.
Me: How?
The Soul of Reporter: I donno how.
Me: See, you are stupid.
The Soul of Reporter: Is that the god-damned truth? Nobody told me I'm stupid before. Thus i assume i am very smart.
Me: You are wrong. You are a stupid nutcase.
The Soul of Reporter: Oh dear.... Why? Why? Why didn't my mum make a bigger brain for me??? Why am i born stupid? Why did i die stupid? Why? This is such a terrible world! Its unfair! The world is torturing me! This is worst than hell!
(The The Soul of Reporter's brain spinned at 1rpm for 2 hrs. Then, he concluded:)
The Soul of Reporter: Since this place is worst than hell, i shall go to hell. Because hell is a better place.
(With that, he throw himself into a pile of shit lying outside. It turned out that the pile of shit was actually an indian selling durians. Anyway, since The Soul of Reporter is an anti-matter, and according to science, an anti-matter and matter collide to form energy, the Soul of Reporter was teleported into hell, while the Indian soul left its no longer existing body and went to heaven where he became the first durian seller cum night soil collector in heaven. He became a rich businessman by his newly acquired skill that enables him to turn shit into durian and vice versa. He remained as a respectable figure in Heaven until one day when a hungry ghost, mistaking him for a pile of either shit or durians, ate him up. He was later magically transformed into a pile of anti-matter shit in the ghost's stomach and later returned back to the world as what came to be known as Luo Han fish. The big lump on the head of the fish is infact a badly mishapened kidney of the Indian Durian/Shit seller.
As the Luo Han fish faze in Singapore grew, many people bought Luo Han fish home to torture. What remained of the Indian Durian and Shit Trader became known as a Luo Han fish named LuLo. He was sold to a rich merchant who owns a wife and many mistress. One of his favourite hobby is to fuck with his mistresses in his living room. When questioned, he explained that the many furnitures available in the living room enables a great freedom of expression. There is no need to express what he wants to express to you.
Incidentally, the fish tank where LuLo was inprisoned was thoughtfully placed in the living room. So months after months, LuLo enjoyed watching the merchant's (Mr Jitsu) nightly expressions of freedoms. LuLo wishs for company, so that he can express himself too.
He got it 2 weeks later, went one of Mr Jitsu's mistress gave him a zebra fish.
"The hole is too small for the stick!" He exclaimed when he took a good look at the zebra fish. He sighed. He feels cheated. However, Lulo's brain (actually mishapened liver) works hard. Instead of inserting into the hole, why not the mouth? He did so, and was satisfied with the result. Mr Jitsu saw what LuLo was doing to his beloved Zebra fish and thought that it was a good idea. He tried it on all his mistresses. Although he was afraid that his stick might get chewed off by a hungry mistress, he was relieved to discover that his stick was still intact. He liked this method of expression and told his friends about it. One of his friend, who is a professional oral examiner, decides to call it "Oral Sex". The name stuck.)
To be continued...
(Typos are unintended and no effort has been made to fix them. The same goes for any other kind of mistakes.)
Neocromancer: Juastiya Kukitpa Reportar De Soulum Restar Tahan!
The Soul of Reporter: Grrr.... I'm ALIVE!!!
2 days later....
The Soul of Reporter: Hi Robert! I'm back! And Im here to kill you!
Me: WOW! I So scare!
The Soul of Reporter: You better be!
Me: Why should I? You can't even comb pull your own ear. You are not a matter! How can you kill me?
The Soul of Reporter: I can learn the skill. The neocromance say i must do a report on you in order for him to teach me the power. So you better aswer my questions!
Me: What the fuck??
The Soul of Reporter: I don't care who you intend to fuck. First question: How is your life in AJC?
Me: Why should I help you kill me? Anyone who help anyone else to kill himself deserve to be dead more than anyone else.
(The Soul of Reporter took out a magical pill and push it into my ass. The pill is suppose to make the carrier answer all questions truthfully. It wears out after a certain amount of time.)
Me: Life in AJC is SU....ROCK!
The Soul of Reporter: Really?
Me: Really.
The Soul of Reporter: Did you have fun there?
Me: N..Yes!
The Soul of Reporter: Cool! Did you like any particular gal?
Me: Ye.....NOPE! I did .... n't
The Soul of Reporter: Which is th truth?
Me: This one.
The Soul of Reporter: What one?
Me: This what that one one.
The Soul of Reporter: Wht is that this one?
Me: That that is, is.
The Soul of Reporter: Very profound. I'll submit it to the "Nutcase, the best medicine" section of Reader's Diarroea.
Me: FUC... Fhan... Thank you you.
The Soul of Reporter: You are welcome. Now that i have got nothing from you, i may as well try to kill you right away.
Me: No, please don't. I know you can't kill.
The Soul of Reporter: I can.
Me: How?
The Soul of Reporter: I donno how.
Me: See, you are stupid.
The Soul of Reporter: Is that the god-damned truth? Nobody told me I'm stupid before. Thus i assume i am very smart.
Me: You are wrong. You are a stupid nutcase.
The Soul of Reporter: Oh dear.... Why? Why? Why didn't my mum make a bigger brain for me??? Why am i born stupid? Why did i die stupid? Why? This is such a terrible world! Its unfair! The world is torturing me! This is worst than hell!
(The The Soul of Reporter's brain spinned at 1rpm for 2 hrs. Then, he concluded:)
The Soul of Reporter: Since this place is worst than hell, i shall go to hell. Because hell is a better place.
(With that, he throw himself into a pile of shit lying outside. It turned out that the pile of shit was actually an indian selling durians. Anyway, since The Soul of Reporter is an anti-matter, and according to science, an anti-matter and matter collide to form energy, the Soul of Reporter was teleported into hell, while the Indian soul left its no longer existing body and went to heaven where he became the first durian seller cum night soil collector in heaven. He became a rich businessman by his newly acquired skill that enables him to turn shit into durian and vice versa. He remained as a respectable figure in Heaven until one day when a hungry ghost, mistaking him for a pile of either shit or durians, ate him up. He was later magically transformed into a pile of anti-matter shit in the ghost's stomach and later returned back to the world as what came to be known as Luo Han fish. The big lump on the head of the fish is infact a badly mishapened kidney of the Indian Durian/Shit seller.
As the Luo Han fish faze in Singapore grew, many people bought Luo Han fish home to torture. What remained of the Indian Durian and Shit Trader became known as a Luo Han fish named LuLo. He was sold to a rich merchant who owns a wife and many mistress. One of his favourite hobby is to fuck with his mistresses in his living room. When questioned, he explained that the many furnitures available in the living room enables a great freedom of expression. There is no need to express what he wants to express to you.
Incidentally, the fish tank where LuLo was inprisoned was thoughtfully placed in the living room. So months after months, LuLo enjoyed watching the merchant's (Mr Jitsu) nightly expressions of freedoms. LuLo wishs for company, so that he can express himself too.
He got it 2 weeks later, went one of Mr Jitsu's mistress gave him a zebra fish.
"The hole is too small for the stick!" He exclaimed when he took a good look at the zebra fish. He sighed. He feels cheated. However, Lulo's brain (actually mishapened liver) works hard. Instead of inserting into the hole, why not the mouth? He did so, and was satisfied with the result. Mr Jitsu saw what LuLo was doing to his beloved Zebra fish and thought that it was a good idea. He tried it on all his mistresses. Although he was afraid that his stick might get chewed off by a hungry mistress, he was relieved to discover that his stick was still intact. He liked this method of expression and told his friends about it. One of his friend, who is a professional oral examiner, decides to call it "Oral Sex". The name stuck.)
To be continued...
(Typos are unintended and no effort has been made to fix them. The same goes for any other kind of mistakes.)
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