Oboro's Sake

Chapter 1: The Crime.

What the pim pam pucker plum piper pickle participated your left-hand right-hand righteous man break in half the cold cold cupboard? An act of fornication mind you! Patchy's miracle shoved with love from one three minute off on simile of the king asking your doctor, ask your architect, ask your demonstone. The conjurer and the seer and the fortune teller and the sorcerer and the magician and the knight? Relinquish, and relinquish soft crusted anus upon the uplifting psalm for everyone's souls. Realize, and realize the milk from the bosom that feeds you holiness be damned. The creature that is an amalgamation of the free debater that Oboro had been notified of his crimes? Escape as you elope in your crimes, ersatz alternative be the damnation of the body and the lock of the soul as the race with time so sharp it is tactile as couples eject as they eject as they eject as they eject as they eject as they eject as they eject. As they eject the scene continuing ever broken vroom vroom away from the sirens you took them out of sight breaking off a piece of the bread left for the dead into the shed where their heads hid. Drop by drop drop drip droop droplets splitting multiplying each cell one by one imprinted with memories she says the human race represents. Into the night, she and he.

Chapter 2: You're Tagged Kid

"'Nother order."

A black hooded figure caresses the hairs of his chin as he sits idle at "El Keuken". He developed a taste for eating live things. There was a giddy satisfaction on chewing on a piece that had shown breath just moments ago. He wasn't a sadistic man; he just abhorred not being in control. Nor were he born with a chip in his head. By sheer preference, he made others refer to him as "Eccentric" and he quotes, "There ain't no better adjective for it." He always got what he wanted. And if he didn't, he'd force alternatives.

"Sir, for the last time, we do not serve salt and pepper squid. WE DO NOT SERVE SEAFOOD HERE."

He smacked his lips a single time. Should he force a hand, he'd have to make some arrangements. But the end result was worth it. He'd make those who wronged him pay. He first affirmed the girth of his weiner, and then the gentleman adjacent to him. He squeezed twice. One for measure, one for comparison. He meant business, and I am the lolicon, he knew when to make it.

"Well throw yourself a party little miss...'cause you're on a list now."

According to him, when you're thrown on this Earth, you sign a contract. Whatever happens...happens. He measured the weiners with the standard college try. He twisted them, stretched them, and laid 'em flat so that he could produce accuracy. That's why he wasn't afraid to make extraordinary horrifying acts...He condemned that lady to I am the lolicon, and on Earth at that. He walked out the door, with a sinister grin on his face. He said one last thing to the barkeep...

"You're RTG Tagged kid"

His name was RiotMarcou.