Toronto Breakfast Vestments

Meanwhile, back in the city of Toronto, 2009…
Vast titanic breasts on an enormous nude chest have just emerged from the city centre, ripping up everything from Bloor and Sherborne to Queens Park Circle…

The man from the hyper-future, Tyra Banks, stands amazed at the chest unleashed by his powerful super-suit’s chestmaker. With him are the nerd he recently met, and soeone who looks remarkably simlar to (name deleted). But it can’t be him, can it? (name deleted) is sleeping, dreaming, even now inside the frown of the universe… then who is this man? What is his plan? And his span? Fan.

The dials and knobs on my suit dialed down and knobbed down to the minimum. I was again allowed to utilize my own bodily limbs to control my directions and motions. how pleasing it was to regain that lost control.

The night air swelled with the rush if heat of the heaving breasts on the now breathing chest, and with the cries and yelps of the hapless Torontonians who had, understandably, not predicted this occurance. Torontonians are notably terrible at predicting the emergence of body parts in the middle of their city, as their future history would bear out time and time again. Old Shafty-Cocks of 2140 really springs to mind.

When last we encountered our hero, he was dead, in the sparsely populated afterlife of frown ejecta.  The Grand Frown of The Universe has realized that he could not digest our protagonist because he was unable to give up his personality to become banal.  Or so he thought!  In actualityville, the mayor recently decreed that much of this is actually only perception, caused by the distant human descendant’s matrix of understanding, his paradigm, created by his socialization, and his various lamps which imbue young human descendants with the necessary social constructs to be totally useless to themselves and society, as Barhalluu the Wise intended.  Due to these measures, one such socially integral force imbued by blaser (bland laser) was the force of self-doubt, or Doublington’s Force, named after Chauncey Doublington, the world’s first human descendant without self-doubt.  His irritatingly self confident poncery caused his extensively planned murder, and in memory of this horrid blitheness, the very thing he most lacked was burdened with his name (as at the time, people’s names were vast megalithic monumental structures, akin to the first Earth Layer’s Pyramids of Giza, only seeping nomenclaturational greases and oils.)

meanwhile, our friendly companion in his invisible shame-powered destiny-based suit searches for his missing friend, our protagonist (name deleted).

Shame. Shame. I had to find someone to shame. The suit’s power was running low, and if it ran out in its present invisible state, it would be stuck invisible forever. IT was not entirely a terrible proespect, but it meant that people would probably never understand how it was i was able to do all the marvellous things i could do, as they could not see the apparent explanation of the suit. Needless to say, taking credit for the work of a funny sci fi type suit was essentially one of the worst Sharms.

Meanwihle, inside the Pale Frown of the Universe…

“I think Obama’s honey-moon is over.”

The firmament arched like a vast emptiness like the emptiness between Matrimonions, the married onions that act as surrogate married couples for people in love who dont’ want to ruin that good feeling. My plan wasn’t working. banality might be insufficient, like a clown with an egg. Yet I couldn’t think of anything else to do.