I’m so not from here; I’m so like a star in a horizontal hole. I’m so ᴁ I go in the out. Look, toots, ya bombshell you (-James Cagney). I so wanna travel in wild space and ‘write-the-reality’ of our outstanding dreams; explore bizarre, psycho worlds! with bizarre, psycho girls! for a sheer gargooglplex of parsecs (those wild!women who keep me up at night aboard my starship, da Rawwk’n Raww!kuss). What do I do in the meantime when I’m not cuddlin’, kissin’, lurrrve’n dem tulips on board? I’ll tella youse:
As we were groovn like lounge-lizards discussing yachTime travel,WHOA! This came across our wire: on one of the distant, stone-age-worlds in our universe, we see they have a low-level of function almost like the level of bronze dwellers. As the crew and I take on a cloaking device to get a closer look to help, we’ll return in 1000 years and see how they evolved to eating utensils.
Q: What’s inside those three, large crates you see descending FROM my spacecraft TO land withe nylon parachutes on a small ‘toown’ of young women (Almighty God made us to serve them)?
A: Find-out, wild lily, for the wildest ride of our eternity. Best choice you could make? Goto HEED (second post) and hook-up with me. Or meet me at the woo- hoo-rocket-fuel-Wedding Feast. Cannot miss me in the coolzootsoot.
-Axiom Speaks