Sex Dreams

I was reading somewhere on these interwebz that a couple of guy friends of mine have NEVER HAD A SEX DREAM. I say, say WHAT?! I don’t believe it. I mean, it’s impossible. I see a chick with a feeding tube I immediately conjure up some sort of way we could party. I mean sex is in constant process in my ogrific brain and I am willing to bet its happening to everyone else too.

Lusty pork wars with flopped over fat girls froggy style at a flea market junk heap. Patrolling MILFs at Target dreaming that one of them (or twelve of them) want to live out some mid afternoon, wine drunk kink. Sloppy gang bangs in a Waffle House bathroom with toothless Hoosier trash queens. Creeping around the tampon aisle at Walgreen’s looking for the one that “just don’t care”. Throwin’ on the trench coat to make mind love to some jogger in the park. Stoned on bacon getting crotch faced by an albino acrobat on a trampoline during a circus warm up. My mind is always churning thinking of ways to unleash my seed. I am always thinking about sex. Whether it is what position could we pull off, how much should I spend, how many roofies, or why I never get any. Oh wait…

Really, I have a vivid imagination and I put it all on the line here for you dear readers (all seven of you). Albino acrobats? Okay, sure. But not really. But it would be fun to watch one of those freaky honies to do a flip into some oatmeal or whiz around like a propeller on a turbo charged helicopter. But despite my imagination, I’m stuck here in boring old reality with my dreams of awesome and the reality of it all never coming true whether I really want it or not. The point is, we are all thinking about sex all the time whether its a momentary blip of thoughts or in my case, absolute fiction before my fourth snot soaked knuckle blast before a cold baloney lunch.

Never had a sex dream… Pfft… Yeah right.

“Get got gone!” A day in the life of God.

Roasted fetal pigs are squeezed by eyeless dwarf slaves oozing hot grease upon a gyrating belly. Ants use gut hairs as a springboard to dive into a pool of liquid lard that has collected in a vacuous naval cave. Celebrating atop crusted lint rafts, ant babies cheer as they float along this vacation fantasy voyage in a belly button gut lake of boiling pork lard courtesy of the Lord of the Pork Hoard (God). Big steamy zits explode like fireworks from curdled jelly geysers across the pock marked mountain of the belly’s flesh. Fleas scold their children while riding atop tears of armpit sweat rolling quickly towards a bruised crotch.

“Oohh let me party!”, God screams to drunken minions who stand around holding offerings of onions and broken sporks.

Another peach is tossed against the chamber wall.”Get got gone!”, God bellows to the confused congregation.

Eager wenches arrive spraying mouthfuls of stale, ‘Ling (Pure Beer). Warm fountains of stain and lust coat the messiah in ogrismic triumph.

Bulldogs rise from their beds of chewed celery to be fed globs of mayonnaise while flutes whistle brightly from nymphs after dawn.

God roars (then pukes a little) making goats scurry towards the pine cone stocks when at the same time drugged squirrels roll up into pyramids, then disperse.

Welcome to another day in the life of the King Mongrel who’s name could be Otis or Lurlene or Evan Bixwell III. Whoever this person or cosmic force is, they subsist as a crowned glop of opioid and clam fritter mish mash who sits atop an edible throne and who takes a break from their ogurt impulses only to award belches anointing imaginary lordships to rocks.

“BUURP!!! Now you’re a king!” commanding a stalagmite brought from a rumored Martian prison ownership of a tract of gutter swamp inside the Frost Zone.

“That’s right… Now give me my wash.”

Hired cretins in wheel chairs dump bedpans of bark sap into a soak vat. God climbs in and waits for sports.

A quick update

After arriving home from Florida, entertaining guests, and now settling back in to my home I am ready to get back on it. It’s been awhile but ogrosity never sleeps. I am working on a few things right now but I just wanted to drop a quick line and let the fellow ogurts out there know that I have not forgotten our quest. I shall return VERY shortly and return to the dissemination of unique verses regarding the behavior and lifestyle of the minions of brutes and trollops within the special chasm where ogrotic vapor swallows our entire core. Oh yes, ogrismo never sleeps. See you shortly in the coming days.