A phone rings in the middle of the night at the white house, who do you want there to answer it?
One dude has his fingers up inside a pudding cup of a sweet porn starlet and he is smearing it on his opponents faces while his wife and daughter watch. The other man wants to disavow and censor the fact that phones exist for his own safety. The call is a wrong number and the person dialing was entering numbers at random trying to get the new shortened mental health hotline… or maybe a sexy 900 number to talk about pudding cups. Shoot the hostage.
This message paid for by a MArtian A.I. sent to decieve and manipulate you into thinking dinosaurs are real and that they weren’t just cool horses Jesus road on and then hid the bones of as a part of a new video game. Language is a virus from outer space. Stop making sense. “Jello-Pudding Cosby impression” PEace out.
The Haunted Typewriter 