GYSO Reviews Part 56 - Two Tone

Published: 2024-12-29

In my peripheral, my eye leaks a leek of lakes. There.

Suddenly, from Hell, there.

Suddenly, everybody dances nightmareishly in place like untz, ffrom, bootz, antidisestablishmentarianism. Believe bees, there.

Suddenly, antidisestablishmentarianism infests lakes of leeks like it’s bad Tuesdays, but anti-antidisestablishmentarianism doubts halts anti-anti-antidisestablishmentarianism-ism progress. Why then, would Mike make the mat gloss gross without approval from the relevant committee?

On the ground and in the sky lies many people in waiting. Recently, the advertisments have gotten even worse. Somehow. Now buy the newest melon wine, buy it fast pig. Looking across the street, you see a sign, worn like an unusally handsome shirt. It tells LIES!

Crossing the intersection is not easy, due to the lack of braincells present in your people’s dumb brains. Idiots. Instead, the secret sauce is that good boys run into balls. My disco balls. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

The sign said you can’t cross without a “ballin” passport. So, please understand perspectives when crossing the balls. Cars keep thundering through, causing heinous crimes and jams–strawberry and melons.

Previously, the goods weren’t legal, but now they’re considered super illegal. Also, anyone can arrest you for speaking about antidisestablishmentarianism. What fuckin’ dum-dum rumba dumba Roomba(tm)𝅘𝅥𝅮. Lets let lettuce leer longingly left, lest Luke leaves like lovers licking leftover lolipop lasagna lasagna. Anyways.

The city is fucked. Intersections suck in traffic, preventing a crossing of crossers. That’s cross. Crass, don’t got that dang wang. Instead of blowing me traffic, please make way for yet another million dollar parade. I’m going to freak out.

Waiting for years, the sign hasn’t told me that it’s safe to cross. My feet are in pain, like a bad spicy, hot, indominable, stupid, raunching, launching, regarding, regurgitating acid. I hope I will live long enough to cross, so please tell me if it’s time. Please.

There’s a person, he has to be at least a millenia late. He’s going towards his doom, also the dance, if you get it. He’s thrusting his fist against the tiny post to insist on the light changing to let them cross. Rumor has it, he has thrusted for longer than a long dong, and that’s what ultimately will lead to the demise of mankind. Eventually. Send help.

The sign suddenly changes! But it’s not going to last. Gosh. Hurry! Disco stampede and balls, parade tries to dodge, but gets blowed up with thrusting jam. MMMMMMMM. If they thought they did they duty they wrong. The city will not allow better crossing. Such is written in the Bibble.

The crowd boos, but sucks shit, because they need the crossing. The Uruguyan sign of heavenly peace pieces together the antidisestablishmentariansists.

The dies.

The end.