Not so Sunday-like musings (again)

You touch me and goosebumps follow the path of your fingers and I hold my breath waiting. “Good morning.” your voice is low, like a roll of thunder. This turns me on like crazy. You move your hands over my shoulders, to my arms, past my waist and stop on my hip. “Are you sore?” you whisper close to my ear. Your fingers flexing and releasing on my hip distract me and a light slap to my thigh brings me out of my head long enough to reply. “No, Sir,” I say, my eyes closed against the sting of your palm. “Look at me,” you command, slipping your hand inside my panties to cup between my legs. “Are you sure?” you ask in a whisper. Twisting my
body slightly, I get a glimpse of you for the first time since last night, and memories of our sexcapades come to mind. “Which response will make you keep touching me?” I ask. You chuckle. I realize how desperate I sound; how desperate I actually am. “The truth will do just fine, ” you reply. You have an amused expression but there is genuine concern in your eyes. “I am a little sore,” I say truthfully. “But I’m fine. I promise.” I smile. You look at me for a long moment before apparently deciding my answer is an honest one.

“On your back.” You say as you remove your hand from my panties. Not a request, but rather a demand that sends a thrill through my entire body. I reposition as quickly as I possibly can while trying not to look too eager. I watch as you turn and push the blanket to the floor. Turning back to me, you gently clasp one of my ankles in each large hand and begin to massage my calves, pressing into the muscle. Leisurely you keep on working, your palms rubbing up and down the outside of my thighs, heating my skin until your hand’s get to the delicate lace of my
panties and you pull them down. This makes my clit throb. Kneeling between my thighs, you lean forward and press your calloused palms into my breasts, scraping my nipples between your fingertips and causing them to harden. I mewl, arching my back, begging for more contact, craving a firmer touch. “Now,” you murmur, “hands-on the posts behind you. Keep them there unless I instruct you otherwise, do you understand?”

“Y-Yes. —Sir.” I add hastily, moving my arms and positioning my hands as instructed. The corner of your mouth lifts in a slight smile. “Good girl,” you say, and I feel the effects of your words where your erection teases the lips of my increasingly wet vagina. You begin to trace the seam of my pussy with the tip of his cock, spreading my moisture. With no warning at all, you thrust forward, seating yourself fully inside me. I groan, and my body begins to obey without my conscious permission. My breathing slowly evens out, and my muscles start to uncoil. I move my hands to touch your chest. “Hands. On. The. Posts,” you re-instruct. Quickly and with no hesitation, I place my hands back on the posts, wrapping my fingers tightly around them and you nod once with approval. You flex your hips, and a ragged moan escapes my lips. I can already feel the soreness this will leave behind, but I crave it; I enjoy it. You begin to withdraw, and I immediately miss the too-full sensation, but you are back before I can form a protest. You set a rhythm, fast, forceful, jarring my body with each of your thrusts, filling me to capacity, and withdrawing again. My mouth opens on a silent scream. Your teeth are nipping sharply at my neck. I hear myself gasping and crying out, but I’m not forming words.

Much too soon, a familiar pressure begins to build low in my belly. White-hot sensation spreads, radiating from the place where you hit the end of me on each inward stroke, and I know I have to get myself together enough to speak. I try to even out my breathing, force my brain to cooperate with my mouth. “Pl-ease” I beg, my words breathy and strained as I continue to absorb the force of your body thrusting into mine. “I’m so close.” “You need it, don’t you?” you taunt. “Yesss” I hiss. I’m so afraid I won’t be able to stop myself, and I tighten my hands on the posts behind my head, fingers going numb in my effort to maintain a modicum of control. “You want to cum?” you ask casually. “Yes, please.” Suddenly you pull out completely, and I’m left gasping, teetering on the edge of oblivion. I try to pull my legs together to hold in the sensation, alleviate the hollowness of your absence, but you brace my thighs apart with
your hands on my knees. “Turn over, ass in the air. Do not cum yet.” Turn over. Turn over. Turn over. I’m chanting in my mind, trying to remember what the words mean. My brain is jumbled and refusing to cooperate with my limbs.

I eventually turn over. You push your veiny cock inside of my tight ass, you push slowly as I haven’t done anal much and I am still new to it. As you push inside of me, you grab my ass and I moan audibly. It is insane. You thrust deeply into me a few times before you cum inside of my ass. You pull out of me and sit down on the bed beside me, I lay naked with my legs across you and that’s when you pull my legs apart, your cum making its way out of me and you push your fingers inside of me. “Cum, now!” you whisper. And I do, thrashing and convulsing, squeezing you. My legs are quivering under my weight and I collapse to my side as soon as you release your fingers. My mind is completely empty, my body replete, and before I even realize it, I’ve closed my eyes, and I’m asleep. A few hours later, I wake and manage to drag myself out of bed. My body still buzzing with pleasure.

Professor Marbles

All I have to do is to survive until I am 130 so that I can regenerate into a young person. How hard can that be? 130 is so bloody old. By the time I get to 80, I will have no teeth and will be walking around with a walking stick. I don’t fucking want to reach that state. I gotta find a way out. One thing you may not know is that the government regulates the regeneration facilities. The 130 thing is just a rule. You can regenerate at whatever age you want. Unfortunately, the government owns the technology and nobody has been able to recreate it yet. The scientist responsible for its creation is somewhere breastfeeding. He keeps being regenerated into a toddler and that way he will not be able to give anyone his secret formula. This hiccup will not deter me from my quest. I am going to find this scientist and do everything I can get information from the old toddler.

Kyllan, pack my bags, we are going to Mars to find Professor Marbles. Professor Marbles lives in Mars with the other convicts. The earth became too populated and crimes increased. All the criminals were sent to mars without a leader. The professor is sent to earth once every two years so that they can be baby-fied. Meeting him on Mars is much better than waiting for him to show up.

Everything is ready and it is now time to leave. The journey is successful and I get to mars. As soon as I get out of my ship, two people with guns are waiting for me outside. They bind both my hand and take Kyllan’s chip form this neck. Shit! I feel fucked. “We shall now take you to our leader”, the arrester says. I follow him closely while enjoying the scenery around. These prisoners have really done some good things with the place. They even have a bouncing castle which is something that has been outlawed on earth. Humans would inflate their kids and bounce them on the castles. Some kids exploded. So, both kid inflation and bouncing castles were outlawed.

In about two minutes, we were at the Leader’s office. Some woman walks in carrying a six-month-old baby. The chubby baby opens its mouth to start speaking. It has teeth, the chubby thing has teeth.

“Hi, who are you and why are you here?”

Did the chubby thing just speak? I had to take a moment and normalize my breathing.

“We are looking for Professor Marbles. We would like the schematics for building the regenerator.” I said.

“I am Professor Marbles you dick. I cannot give you the schematics but I have another way of helping you. Head back to earth and visit the Earth house. Camp 50 metres outside the South Gate. When the lights go out, walk slowly towards the gate and start playing this tune. All the Earth house members have chips in them that will react to this particular tune by making them laugh. They will laugh till they die and the eventually evaporate into thin air. I will give you a passcode to get in after 20 minutes. Walk to the basement and find android replacements for everyone. I made then so I know they are perfect. Nobody will notice a thing. The human race is clearly getting more and more stupid. You will find the President’s schedule in the Round Office. You are to become the new leader until I come back in the next 18 months. While controlling the president, you can change the regeneration age to suit you. Now go back to Earth and take care of that planet for me.”

Before I could say anything, we had been teleported to 50 metres outside the South Gate of Earth house. Let’s fucking carry out a coup Kyllan. Fuck me!! Your chip is still in Mars.

If I had the Infinity Stones

….vanquish Thanos the mad Titan and then….

1. Disempower evil.

2. Build autonomous benevolent systems safeguarding basic human rights.

3. Create redundant safety mechanisms to keep human greed and ego in check.

4. Ensure all are fed, housed, and have basic needs accounted for.

5. Make access to education free for all.

6. Snap away oil executives, corrupt leaders, and the aristocracy.

7. Provide a safe, cheap, miniaturized, portable energy source.

8. Make ourselves immortal and make duplicates, so that we can objectively safeguard the world as needed when people try to fuck it up.

9. Ensure the universe is truly infinite to combat ever increasing entropy and enable continued existence for all life perpetually, should they acquire the means for mass scale cooperation, peace, expansion, and eventual paradise.

HER

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So, we gotta talk about HER because it is a requirement that I study and I can’t do that until I write this because she has been occupying the better part of my head lately.

She is one attractive human who possesses beauty undreamt of. I would randomly see around and thought “she is quite fine-looking this human, I would love to know HER”. Then, I found out we had a few mutual friends who would randomly mention HER in passing and just like that, I randomly met HER. Then I got to have a random conversation with HER one day and damn…I was overcome with awe and wonder. I couldn’t stop listening, she is really sophisticated and witty. That had to be one of the best conversations I have had in my life. I think about it a lot.

Accidental call

One night I randomly go through my phone and I realize that I may have HER number. So, I decided to call HER. I had no chills that day. At one point, someone called me using HER phone and I saved the number. I was only doing trial and error to see if it would go through. It did go through. At first, I was a little nervous but, turns out she was also excited to hear from me. That was a lovely one hour and 44 minutes conversation. We did plan to hang out and smoke little. A vice we both share.

Smoke day

Well, I am probably not proud of all that smoking but it was totally worth it. Chainsmoking was the order of the evening. That whole time, I was learning all these new things from HER. The sapiosexual in me was receiving pleasure and satisfaction every moment of it and I watched HER getting more and more attractive the more she talked.

Another smoke day

This time, I was a tad bit anxious and to calm my nerves, I had a few shots of whiskey. She showed up. I handed HER a shot. We ended up buying more liquor and cigarettes and the rest of the night was too sacred for me to share but it involved selection of clothes and pressing delete.

The memories I got, I never want to lose. I will hold on to them for as long as I can whether I get to see her again or not. I will think about HER at least once a day and then thank the universe for bringing to me this perfect little arrangement of atoms. I am so smitten. I kinda like it. It’s a strange feeling. I got feels again, I think a party to remember this day is in order.

No feels

So, this is where I actively run to when I am slowly dying inside. An action I am disposed to take in order to affectuate change in my troubled psychological state. I am not sufficiently qualified at processing what I am feeling. The tear resting on my eyelid right now feels a bit conflicted on whether to drop or travel back into my glands. Oh…it has dropped. When this happens, I have lost all ability to fix my excruciating state in any logically existing manner.

In my mind, I perceive a violent fight between my heart and my brain. It is a fight that possesses merit and finds in me a devoted admirer. The heart is a formidable opponent, extremely impressive in strength and excellence and inspires fear. It is this fear that makes the brain into an entity that is unmoved by appeals of sympathy or forgiveness. The brain will always win after rendering a surgical strike intended to cripple the heart. Each time this happens, I lose a part of myself, and I become the robot that I hope to create one day. I lose all little bits that I find most beautiful in other humans.

One morning I will be taking a walk on the beach and I will fail to notice the beautiful sunrise, or the breeze across my face, or the sound the ocean makes and I will go back to my beach house or hotel to continue with my robotic life that is devoid of human emotion. This beautiful creature in form of a man or a woman will walk up to me, tell me that I have a nice smile and whisper in my ear that I am beautiful and I hope that at that very moment, in its weakened state, my heart will challenge for one more fight and this time, it will win so that when the day comes when my life flashes before my eyes, I will smile knowing that even though it was for a short while, I felt again.

Why God created humans…

1. 1. He was bored.
   2. He was lonely.
   3. For his own pleasure.
   4. He was working on an art project and accidentally created humans.
   5. He created a virtual world that became sentient. He is just a super cool programmer.
   6. He wanted to make the angels jealous because they were starting the misbehave and feel entitled.
   7. He made a bet with his sister on who could create the better universe. He had made landscape only and his sister had people and animals. He then stole the people and animals from his sister’s universe and presented it to his parent. His parent was so impressed that he/she breathed life into the universe, added to his landscape and voila, we came into being.
   8. He created one toy, fell in love with it and decided to give it friends.
   9. He needed a way to exercise his savagery.
   10. He was expressing himself artistically so that he could prove himself to his overbearing parent and overachieving siblings. He finally got the approval he wanted from his parent as he turned his creation into his worshipers which were the ultimate goal.
   11. Jesus had become an obstinate kid and so God had to create people and a whole narrative spanning millennia that would eventually lead to Jesus’ punishment. While Jesus was enjoying thinking he had been forgiven, he was sent to earth and brutally killed then resurrected. He has learned his lesson and has behaved since then.
   12. Perhaps I should stop speculating and ask the doctor, she would definitely have an answer for me, but first, I should consult the Dalek database.

I almost killed Adolh Fitler

I met this guy who offered me a great deal of money. I was to go back in the past and kill Adolh Fitler. How could I say no? he paid up front and I could not say no to meeting Fitler. I had Kyllan procure me a time machine. What would I do without him? He is the best robot ever. I set the machine to 1940 and Kyllan and I got into his time machine. I pressed a red button and there I was in Adolh’s office with my magnificent robot behind me.

I, unfortunately, found him in his office and before I could make any movement, he started shooting at me. Kyllan’s primary job is to make sure that I am safe from any harm and so he, in a split second, stood in front of me and took all the bullets. He stopped shooting when he noticed that I was not firing back. He stood up and asked me who I was. I told him my name. I explained that I was from the future and that is why my clothes looked a little bit strange and not in fashion.

“…..now Adolh, you are quite the very handsome man. You have excellent bone structure. I am finding it hard not to stare at you. You know, I was sent here to kill you, end your life just like that by putting a bullet in your skull. Some really weird old man who is almost senile sent me here to end you but we can talk about that later. I have to say, you look more handsome than your pictures. I cannot stop staring at you. There is something about your face that just makes my loins frothy. I am already a big fan of yours. You see, you have the most beautiful nose that I have ever seen. It totally stands out and unlike all the other human beings; the complexion of your nose is very different from the complexion of the rest of your body. You have a black nose and a white body. That is what I like to call a piece of art. You know the phrase that says God created us in his own image? It totally refers to you. Look at you, you are a Greek god. You are Zeus. You are my Zeus. You, your black nose and I will have very beautiful children with black noses and white bodies. It is illegal to have such a beautiful nose, a nose like no other.”

I had to clear my throat.

“I will now give you my gun, my other gun, my other gun, my knife, my grenade, my sword …. and ….. yeah, that’s it, you have all my weapons now. I am very harmless now. I am doing this as a sign of good faith hoping that you will also like my nose and offer me a nose ring. I could give you my pinky too but if I cut them off, I will bleed to death and die. I kill people with these two fantastic twins, my index finger and my middle finger. They are quite useful. Look, they can turn metallic spikes. I call them Squiddly and Diddly. Okay, I’m done talking now….”

It was then that Adolh walked towards me and started singing,

“Hello, is it me you are looking for.

I can see it in your smile…

You are all I’ve ever wanted…..

And my arms are open wide….

Cause you know just what to say…

And you know just what to do….

And I want to tell you so much….

I love you….”

Oh my goodness, Lionel Ritchie must have stolen those words from you.

Adolh and I are happily married with ten babies. He took my name to avoid being found by any other assassins from the future. I still live in the past and I refuse to change my wardrobe. Adolh likes my wardrobe and that is all that matters. Kyllan is still with us, still takes care of me. Every once in a while, he goes to the future and comes back with my monkey subjects. We decided that we don’t like people.

Chills , guns and whips

I had my eyebrows threaded today. It was probably the most awesome thing that happened to me today. I was feeling really good while I was being threaded. As my hair was being plucked one by one, all I could feel were chills down my spine. These were the good kind of chills, the ones that you feel when all of a sudden the boy you have been crushing on all your life touches that weak spot of your body. I did not want her to stop; I wanted the plucking to continue. I was deriving enjoyment and satisfaction from those chills. She continued plucking on my orders until she could pluck no more. The plucker had stopped plucking. What the hell was going on? I got angry and wondered why she had stopped plucking. I raised my head and looked at myself in the mirror. There really was nothing to pluck anymore. All my eyebrow hair had vanished and I had this default look of surprise that would remain unchanged indefinitely for quite a long while until I grew back my eyebrow hair. The poor plucker cut a fake mustache into two and stuck them just above my eyes. She was perfect. My new eyebrows were very symmetrical and would make babies cry too. This was just wonderful.

On my way out of the salon, I passed this very hot and sexy police officer. He was too gorgeous. It should be illegal to be a law enforcement officer and look like that. He had a gun on one hand and a whip on the other.… “Oh, police officer. Master, I could not help but notice your weapon that incorporates a metal tube from which bullets are propelled by explosive force. You have a very big gun. I would love for you to shoot me with it. I like big things. I’m sure your bullets are big too. I love me some big bullets. It would be a great honor if you wounded me with one of your big metal projectiles that are fired from your gun. I would love that very much.

Oh, and look at your whip. I have never seen one like this. This is a very thick whip. Please, beat me with it. Beat me with your fat strip of leather and leave a scar. I need that scar so that I can remember you. I hear scars are very sexy nowadays and that is why girls are now paying people to beat them and leave them with scars so that their boyfriends love them which is some really screwed up shit. Scars are saving marriages. Beat me, master, beat a begging girl. I will pay you to beat me. All I want is a bullet and one beating. Give me the chills I have always waited for. You would be happy to know that I am not a minor. Can I kiss you and bite your lip a little? Arrest me, sir, those handcuffs would look so great on me. I am a dangerous criminal. Dangerous criminals should be seized by legal authority and taken into custody. Please be my legal authority. You have to arrest me now and take me to the station for a little bullet and whipping action. So, what do you think officer?”

The splits and Allie

I, unfortunately, cannot do the splits. I will not knowingly spread my legs to an 180-degree angle. It just feels dangerous. I don’t really subscribe to danger, you know, I am all into self-preservation and all and have to keep myself healthy for when I go to Mars with my lovely android Kyllan. Anyway, Kyllan would never agree to me doing the splits. I hardcoded that into his neural network. One split can cause a lot of wear and tear in my loins and that would not be good for me in any way. It is probably worse for men because they can just tear their balls right in the middle and all the sperm will be destroyed not to mention the excruciating pain. I cannot imagine the world without sperm. No more real babies. We might end up having to grow babies in labs. (Because of this fear, the president of the whole world soon issued an arrest warrant to any male that was caught doing or trying to do the splits and the punishment was life in jail where you will be taken care of very well so that no danger comes to either you or your balls until your death and if this proved difficult, your balls would be chopped off and given to someone that actually cares). I may not have balls but I love my loins and I need to take extremely good care of them. So, let us all say NO to the splits.

Meanwhile, I just got out of bed because I cannot fucking sleep. Sleep escapes me, playing a game of ‘hide and seek’, mostly hiding and rearing its head just once in a while, seduces me with kisses and just when I am about to fall, I find myself all alone and wondering where all that sweet sexy sleep disappeared to. I cannot feel it touch anymore. In a lot of ways, sleep to me is Cleopatra personified clad in red and six-inch heels. It is almost 0400 hours. Retarded mosquitoes are feasting on my alcohol filled blood (It was a memorable night for me before the mosquitoes happened). The little bastards must be having a blast with their mouths stuck deep into my supple skin.

I have been thinking for the past few minutes about Allie. Allie is this girl that I just realized I have a huge crush on, a bigger than Everest crush. I have known her for two whole years but I just recently shamefully started having all these thoughts about her that are three buses, a taxi, and a long walk away from clean. I used to have dirty thoughts about her best friend but she turned out to be very Heterosexual (yes, I absolutely mean it with the capital ‘H’). The last time I saw Allie, I kept staring when she wasn’t looking and whenever she was looking, I tried stealing furtive glances. I love stealing furtive glances and pretending that I was looking elsewhere as soon as I get caught. she had this blue shirt that made her look super sexy. She had really hot pants on too. I love her gait and I stare at her bouncy bum (that I would love to cup) and face a lot.

Allie is a really cool girl. She is hot too (always a bonus after smartness). I am not entirely sure if someone can be both of those at the same time. Being both cool and hot gets you out of the 1 to 10 scale because you definitely are 11 or above. Allie is probably at 15. She is very yum yum yum yum yum. I want to eat her. Perhaps I could just bite and leave it there, a little hickey does not hurt at all. Not in the Hannibal Lecter way, that would be creepy as hell. Eating her will land me in jail or in a mental asylum and I know so well I would not last a minute there before someone made me their bitch.

Sometimes, I turn into a sociopath when I like someone or have a crush on them or so my friends tell me. I always want to bump into Allie so I can hug her and feel her cushion like boobs on my chest. I have learned something very important from hugging Allie; she has ABS. I like ABS. I like my girls fit as hell. Oh Allie, why can’t you notice how crazy I am about you? I hear you like mysterious girls. I am mysterious. I got a fog machine under my bed. I bet you will love that. We can hang out in the fog together and watch Doctor Who and pretend that I am a Dalek and you are the Doctor and you show me mercy even though I am hell bent on exterminating you. You then override Davro’s programming and turn me into a good Dalek and we will travel the universe and get married in the Medusa Cascade and Captain Jack Harkness will cry as he pronounces us wife and wife. Just be my Time Lord already, my dear Allie.

I am currently gathering up all the courage I need and then I will be back to tell how I probably freaked out and turned super duper red then fainted  and woke up in a hospital bed with a broken heart condition caused by continuously disappointing myself because I am too scared to tell a girl that I like her and the tomato cheeks story will happen once again.

KAREN AND THE BABES

I have started a band. We do drugs and occasionally some weird but beautiful music. The band is called Karen and the Babes. It constitutes of Karen, Matt, and Arthur. I am ‘Karen’, Matt and Arthur are ‘the Babes’ (I like to refer to them as ‘my babes’ every once in a while). They are ‘the Babes’ because I said so and I am always right even when I am not and nobody dares say otherwise or they will suffer my wrath on an epic scale.

On a beautiful afternoon, my handsome babes and I go to a restaurant. We have been performing all morning and are now quite hungry, tired and thirsty. I could swallow a whole horse by herself. You will not dispute this once you see how large my mouth opens when I yawn. It shocks me how large it gets and has shocked some of my girlfriends too. No wonder they just disappear without notice.

We get into the restaurant. Matt takes a little longer because he likes to play with the revolving door. The child in him always gets activated as soon he sees a revolving door. I am not enjoying this whole situation and I pull Matt by his ears to his seat. In case you have always been wondering why Matt has got one ear that looks long and sharp and shaped like a cone, a bit sharp and prickly, now you know the reason.

Matt seats down reluctantly and almost wants to start crying when the waiter shows up. Arthur looks quite delighted and starts doing his chicken dance. This is not his fault, his grandfather was part chicken and part human and even though he looks very much human, he still has got a bit of chicken DNA in him that shows up as soon as he sees a waiter in a restaurant or a chef. It gets worse if the waiter is carrying cooked chicken. Sometimes he even quacks and other times he thinks he is a cockerel and ends up chasing women thinking they are hens. Watching ‘Hells Kitchen’ with him is usually quite entertaining. He is very fit because of all the dancing. He never runs or goes to the gym. He just watches the Food Channel on television every day at 4 o’clock in the morning. Does his chicken dance for an hour and he will be good to go for the day.

The waiter walks up to our table and says, “Good afternoon inferior humans, The Master will see you now. Please follow me.”

For some reason, we felt compelled to do as the waiter said. Arthur was now chicken walking. He could not help it, the waiter was right in front of him. We went to the back of the restaurant, got into the lift. We went a few floors down and then stopped. The waiter punched in some pin number and the door opened with music playing in the background. It was like a fanfare. The lyrics to the song were a little disturbing though. I could hear a line that said: “It is time to eat the brains”, and something about monkeys stealing faces and taking over the human race.

We could be in a zombie layer. The zombies finally grew smart and found themselves a lair where they could train and get better at everything in preparation to invade the earth. I should be scared but I am not. All I want to do right now is meet The Master and see whether he is actually a real brain eating zombie so I can cross one thing off my bucket list.

“Welcome to my lair Karen and the Babes. I am delighted to meet you finally. I am a very big fan of yours. I have watched all your shows but unfortunately, I have never been able to attend a live show because, well, you will find that out in the next few seconds….”

He swings his chair around and faces us. Finally, The Master is here and…….. he is not a zombie. On the bright side, our brains will not be part of the menu. On the worse side, this could be much worse.

“Boom, ” he says while looking directly at us. Arthur, who by now had stopped dancing since the waiter had left as soon as he got us there, started laughing hysterically. Matt decided to join in on the laughing. “What the shit, what is wrong with you people!!!” I thought. I could not tell whether The Master was going to kill us for laughing or do something worse than death. Seriously, I could not tell, he had one eye which was on a nipple. He had a tit face. Just one tit standing erect on his face.

“As you can see, the wicked witch of the west turned me into this and said that in two thousand years, Karen and the Babes will sing a song that will rid me of this curse and I can finally attend one of your concerts live without looking like a monster. You are my redeemers. I have had your equipment sent here and some food will be brought for you to eat and then you will perform your hearts out until we find the song that relieves me of my curse. If I still look like this by the time you are done, you will all die a horrible death as nobody has ever seen my face and I would like it to stay that way as long as it is still a tit. Okay?” said The Master.

That started sounding a lot scarier than I thought but to stay alive, I would do anything. Self-preservation is a thing that I subscribe to.

They gave us some food to eat that was only made up of eggs from a pig and chicken hybrid. The eggs tasted like bacon to me. Poor Arthur, he was probably eating an ancestor of his.

As soon as we were done eating, we set up all our equipment and got ready to sing our hearts and lungs out and get into the moment and rid The Master of his tit face. This was the day, the day that would determine the rest of our lives.

Since the wicked witch of the west did not exactly tell which exact song to sing, we were to perform all our songs until we got to the one that broke the curse and made The Master what he once was – a handsome prince.

We started with ‘Coconuts’, then went to ‘Spider head’, then to ‘Little lip’, then to ‘Dimple on my butt’ and then the most amazing thing happened.

The tit on The Masters’ head disappeared and his face manifested after 2000 years of waiting patiently for Karen and the Babes. Who knew ‘Dimple on my butt’ would end up being a very important song.

“Oh my goodness, he was quite handsome.” I thought.

He then said,“Congratulations, You lot get to live. Thank you, Karen and the Babes. I appreciate this. I am not tit faced anymore. I am once again a handsome prince. Now, straight to business, Matt and Arthur, oh you lovely two people, I am going to punish you for laughing at my tit face. Don’t worry, the punishment will only last for 24 hours.”

Matt was turned into an ant-size person and sent into my left boob. “Sorry Karen, said The Master, Matt will reside in your boob for the next 24 hours. Everything will be fine unless you start lactating. Make sure not to lactate or Matt will get lost forever.” I could feel Matt walking around inside there. It was quite uncomfortable. Is he looking for milk!!

“And you Arthur, well, what shall I do with you? Mhhh …..let us see….”

Arthur was locked in a room with three chefs and two waiters for 36 hours. Poor Arthur, he was panting and heaving constantly he had to lie down for about 18 hours before he could feel better. Poor Arthur.