He had done everything he could think of from boiling to freezing and even soaking it in various liquid mixtures, but the small shank titanium trombone mouthpiece still tasted like rank ass
Little did Rob know, the used small shank titanium trombone mouthpiece had belonged to a performance artist named Frederic Fletcher Felcher. I decided to try teabaging him, but his balls smelled even worse. “No wonder I threw up” she said, “My stomach was full of puke!”
“How do you feel now?” asked Pricilla
“I feel great, praise Jesus!” replied Linda. She had been told this many times and actually mistaken for him four times. Rob thought about the County Corn Fest next weekend and knew if he could get this tarty saucy wench drunk and get her to eat a lot of corn, she would probably dump a big corny stool the next day. “Do you like corn?”
“Why gosh golly, yes I do!” answered Linda with a tarty excitement she couldn’t conceal. “I couldn’t help but notice you ralphing major drop trough. If only I could be somehow retarted, I would be so gosh golly
