Reasons
One day, I was walking up the street. I happened to notice an ultra-rare gazillion-dollar coin (Ya know, the one with Nixon on it.) Intrigued, I slowly picked it up. As I carefully bent over, my chin began to protrude out of my ass. It generally got worse from there. Suddenly, a splitting scream entered my right ear. I flipped myself inside out to see what all the commotion was. Lo and behold, a young lady was being sexually assaulted. My horniness began to get the better of me, as I walked towards the sound.
Our eyes met. As soon as she saw me, a dog began to dissect his friend for the betterment of monkeykind. Lord, it was a heavenly experience. A banana bunch shot out of her tight-as-shit rectum, and we passionately embraced. As I began to pull her shirt off right in public, suddenly I recognized those tatas. It was Jeff.
I had to think fast. I pressed the button in my liver, and my raging hard boner became a machine gun. I quickly filed the paperwork, and it was all over from there. Jeff essploded into a sixth of his normal size. Somehow I could tell it wasn't over yet, though. My good orangutan friend Jim (he's great at pyrotechnics, held my town's 4th of July last year) handed me a letter. It read "Bunny Man Bridge is a lie. You oughta skedaddle before I tell Celestia. PS: Where's my copy of Conker's Bad Fur Day? I've been looking all over for it. Can you help a bro out? - H.A."
As soon as I read the signature, I realized who it was. Happy Appy. It was long from over.
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