Dawn bREaks on Frexit

[PieOats]

Lord Commander Borris Johnson, Master of the Freeport of Antonica smiled up at the rising sun. She winked - and flashedeth unto him her hot toddies. The Lord Commander drank of them (both) and was thoroughly boozed. He strolled by the water closet vanity and paid it no heed as it hurled his *GREAT RADIANCE* back upon his comely shoulders. He was a dashing fellow. The mirror knew this as well as he, himself (exercised appropriately for emphasis).

An MP RUSHED FORWARD and turned *off* the capslock as he stooped low before the High Lord, "Whattofor hath thou donned upon thine crown, noblest withertoof, milord?"
"Grau, grau, finneth pon dine venesow!" He snorted with a haughty smile.
"Huehuehuehue," retorted the little man from a hole in is shoe.
Dawn growled. Dawn laborer and at last the morning sun drop from her glowing anus.
The Lord Commander flushed.

[Chortles Snort|eS]

https://i.imgur.com/MWxR7pn.jpg

[Mblake81]

https://i.imgur.com/VhgnzQN.jpg

[KansasComrade]

What is this, FYAD?

[PieOats]

Rank wang floated dubiously in the air. The chief fomentor of lust rubbish was pleased. It was dark and pale and rancid. He wore torn breeches of bad amalgamations and wrought dark lagoons of the luxurious forays he was wont to conclude. Deep spates of dark divinities drowned his deep thoughts on dark thots and third words of red sandals. We'd love to not, but for they that had this madness. Yellowed tribes in disheveled robes bound with glee from hilltop to tree. There needn't be any reason free. We'd then see what to be. Flee or bend the knee. I crout in silence my hands to my face, the sound I trace withered in dark lace. What for we know of this benknownst, but not when or how or of the most. Let be this tree of some or three and the vine comes to shine may we be fine. Brine and dine and do not whine when we're fine, we'll be in line. Let all be held and then forgot, old things quelled and some things not. This is it, but for now, hags a great day up until now and then some more.

Thank you,

[Mblake81]

NEGGED

[PieOats]

ACKnowledged. Honestly it felt too coherent for SoC, but it's what came out as I warmed up. It also displays interesting parallels to the tale of the late JEFREY EPSTEIN.

[Canelek]

Approved. Ship it!

[PieOats]

The Lord Commander's lory screeched to a halt. He dismounted, ripped the pewter commode from her boot and strode around the front. "There's a good hen!" He said with a loving pat on the bonnet. He then skipped skipped gaily into No. 9. where he spent the rest of the day loying about.

High Lord Provocateur Jacob Reese-Mogg had just returned from Hogwarts and was out for a bit of Wensleydale and pussy. His tiny moogle wings ferried him down Downing Street with wondrous rapidity. He snickered haughtily and mumbled a collection unintelligible English word things.

A dark shape emerged far down the street beyond many toy-sized domestic transport vessels. The eyes of High Lord Provocateur blinked behind a set of neat Chopard frames. Melisandre, the Red Witch of Dravania came in view just ahead. Reese-Mogg blushed and fluttered to a *FULL STOP-* as Melisandre regained her composure. She smoothed her pretty dress and adjusted her old, but still perky breasts before greeting High Lord Mogg. Mogg fluttered gracelessly as he inclined his moggbody in something of a bow, softly thwacking the Lady with his yellow Moggball.

"Lord Mogg, is been donkey years!" cooed Melissandre.
"Too good, my dear," he returned cheerfully, but with GREAT AUTHORITY.

Melissandre leaned forward spilling a good portion of milf bosom from her silky raiment. "It is not safe here, my Lord," she whispered. Her breath smelled of yeasty fruit and ethanol. MoggMogg recoiled, ALCOHOL! He glanced about. Remainers leered from the shadows at Mogg's fine eyewear and Melissandre s milkshake.

"Too right, Madame," returned Mogg "we must needs be away."

Melissandre's faced scrunched and the recycled paper straw collapsed. Melissandre frowned at the milkshake. And with that, they made for the refuge of HELM's DEEP.

[Chortles Snort|eS]

Nice post I didn’t reaD U wholE grAin WhoRe

[imsorryGMs]

One of my easier faps

[PieOats]

Nice post I didn’t reaD U wholE grAin WhoRe

you really know how to talk to a girl.

thx bb.

[Chortles Snort|eS]

me show u lower GuK sumTieM
MayB hAV haVe GuD DRU ride! 👍

[Mblake81]

https://i.imgur.com/coGc5xZ.gif

[Cecily]

I think when my e2 levels get high enough I can't understand this spectrum gibberish anymore. This happened back in 2012, too. It's kinda nice.

[PieOats]

https://i.imgur.com/coGc5xZ.gif

Butt y tho?

[PieOats]

Lord PotUS Magnum Donald J Trump, SUPREME COMMANDER of the Greater Eorzean Middle Earth Alliance dropped from Marine One amidst a gaggle of sniveling librul media press people and waddled up the steps of the ancient Ishgardian city of HELM's DEEP. He held a piece of Kentucky's finest in his right hand and a stack of personally penned shitposts in the wrong hand, ready to tweet at a moment's notice. His over-burdened cod piece drug wearily between his legs.

A bent and broken creature skittered from the darkness as Lord PotUS ascended into THE DEEP. FREDDO! The thing hissed and spit and shat itself in protest of Donald's free association with the *racist* nations of Rohan, Gridania and England. Don flicked is shortening slicked thumb and tweeted his enemy's ruin upon the mountain side.

[PieOats]

HELM'S DEEP was a doddering structure nestled in the asscrack of the Southern Cascade Range. The High Lord Provocateur, Jacob Reese-Mogg could almost see it now, groveling at the foot of Mount Rainier.

"We're almost there, kupo" he spake unto the Lady Melissandre. Melissandre s mature bosom pressed rebelliously against here bodice, it's silk structure tested by her weight and the tiny Moggpaw anchor points from which she hung. The breeze was DELIGHTFUL

Mogg glowered at The Deep. It was a seat of Ancient Power, but like so many great things, it had fallen to unseemly ends. Corruption, thought Mogg unto himmoggself. Nigh on two-score and ten years, these lands had suffered wave after wave of progressive migrants, fleeing the oppressive regimes of the Unite Communist Municipalities and Unincorporated Territories of Silicon Valley and Pyongyang. He spat Moggspittle in disgust.

"We'd best make haste, my dear Lord Mogg," implored Mellissandre from below. Stewing in the righteous fury of his enlarged Moggheart, the High Lord Provocateur had forgotten whomst he carried.

"It would seem it's beginning to rain and I left my lolly at No. 9" she lamented with a lick of her lips.

"Cheerio, my dear! We'll make the Deep soon enough," he replied, cheerfully.

[PieOats]

Pocahontas, Senator of the Abysmally Named State of Massachusetts dismounted and squared her square man-shoulders. The Sioux war party sighed a collective sigh of relief. They were old and fat and unfashionably clad in medium-quality garments. At long last, they had arrived.

Adjusting his bolo tie, Chief Shitting Ass shuffled out of the way as Pocahontas made her way to the back of the procession. The chief smiled. He rather liked the tie and it was a good deal too. He had acquired it many moons ago in exchange for a DELUXXE FAMILY PACK, one bottle of untaxed liquor and assorted tobacco products. He took a sip of diet soda and returned it to the drink holder on Catching Wynn's saddle. He was too old to bareback.

Pocahontas returned. She trudged proudly toward the establishment with a red refurbished sleigh and small malformed creature in tow. Wampum trickled from where it had been heaped atop the sleigh, a great gift from the late Colonel Sandahs Clause. The little creature was like lightning as he dashed retardedly about affectionately scooping up the bits of undocumented currency.

Pocahontas stopped and looked up at the Chik-Fil-A before them.