Frankenberry Touched My Ass: Difference between revisions
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He offered me a free sample of artificial strawberry flavor frosted cereal with spooky-fun marshmallows. Although I was terrorified (a combination of horrified and terrified) I had a hunch that Frankenberry would kill me and all of my friends and family if I didn't do as he said. "Could I at least have some milk?", I gentlemanly inquired, being rather well-mannered for my age. "Sure!!", Frankenberry screamed rather loudly (so loudly that the store manager could hear it, but he was too busy ripping open cereal boxes and shoveling Super Mario and Legend of Zelda Nintendo Breakfast System food products into his mouth even though they had clearly expired in the early 90s). With that, Frankenberry ripped off his pink Buffalo Wild Wings t-shirt and revealed his breasts. There was one hair limply sticking out of each like a flower that hadn't been watered in several weeks. "Check, please.", I muttered.
Frankenberry took great offense to this and took out a knife. It was a plastic butter knife, but it made me piss my pants just the same (I have a bladder
"Oh, shit, this tastes kinda O.K.", I remarked. However, I didn't realize just how cunning and clever Mr. Strawberry Frankenstein was, and by the time I figured it all out it was too late.
To this day, my pants still smell like strawberries, no matter which pair I am wearing. When I fart, it also smells like strawberries. Although this has helped me romantically, I can never forget the horrors that Frankenberry did to me out of my mind. If you ever find yourself in the grocery aisle and find a perverted-looking pink Frankenstein with a timer and factory whistle attached to his marshmallow-coated cranium, ask him what the fuck kind of drugs his mother did when she was pregnant with him and run over
''Leggo my Eggo would be fitting last words.''
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