Behold His Eminence, Prince Biggie!
The mystic hypnotic majestic molting crow.
Allow your troubles to melt away as you gaze deeply into his...
nostril.
And when he snaps his fingers, you will wake up and find that you never need another cigarette again. You'll pack up your shit and move out of the house that you bought with that lazy abusive asshole. Buy a plane ticket to Cabo San Lucas. Rent an apartment with a big veranda overlooking the plaza and start a business selling aloe vera plants in handmade terra cotta pots strung up with macrame. Marry a retired motorcycle mechanic that's great in bed but snores so loud you end up sleeping on the porch swing every night, which you're actually pretty ok with, and die peacefully one afternoon in your sleep at the age of 95.
What's that you say, Biggie? You don't have any fingers?
Well then I guess there won't be any snapping, will there. Which means we just gotta wake the fuck up and go back to our boring ass lives and the jobs that we hate and the partner we've been fantasizing about poisoning for the last eight years.
Better luck next molting season.
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All the stuff (pictures, words, etc.) I put in this post and any of my other posts is mine (unless otherwise stated) and can't be used by anyone else unless Biggie and I say it's ok and don't try and don't you dare try and hypnotize me into changing my mind.