The smelly smell from the astral fart cannon caused him to wake up from his deep luminiferous aether dreams as he realized to get himself ready for another round in the wrestle of Armageddon vs. Babylon.
The smelly smell from the astral fart cannon caused him to wake up from his deep luminiferous aether dreams as he realized to get himself ready for another round in the wrestle of Armageddon vs. Babylon. Luckily this time all the memory plug-ins stayed un-deactivated, so he was immediately on track and ‘first of all’ ready to act. When he got enough information by looking into the chronicles of transparency, which were discovered and published by the historians of the disproven unknown, he realized that this contract of cosmic peace was a sloppy cheat of ‘mythosophic’ legend lies, solely existent to suppress his so beloved and cherished cosmic seeds.
Soltek had to smile and took a big mouthful from the cup with prana, arranged his brand new and really tight-fitting nano leggings and decided to take the ‘flatratecontractupdatetextasmuchasyoulike’ option. The very nice humming and summing turbines from his dream glider were motivated and happy to finally be back in business and also back on track for the ordered destination. Together they glided through the web of layered spheres of the lower dimension twists and luckily the ‘Trollgur’ from level 7 was in a deep coma. Even for him the new THCTP was too much to handle, so he ended up sucking powerless the totally bloodless nipples of the beast from Kasachstan.
The navigation display was filled with coordinates to the perfect point of materialization and because of the yummy smell of fresh popcorn the committee of entity decided for the actual blockbuster. Quick and not subtle the missionaries created nests on the ignored neurons of the ‘clanwithoutmembers’, a spot of landing on the matrix of the 12th moon connection. The teachers were proud. With only 1 strike 834.698 cerebral cortexes were captured, network implemented and on standby. Happy, but somehow touched by a sorrowful feeling, he positioned his tantra controller in the ‘embering’ cave of his beloved ‘karmabitch’ and was awaiting the glowing first light of the new morning.
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…it could not happen again, which had to happen and once again the beer became warm, although it clearly violated the cosmic grand-constitution, which clearly forbade the existence of warm beer.
He had to admit that he had lost the factual overview of his cosmic positioning temporarily out of his sight, out of his senses, because of all the definite vortex-thrust pleasures.
The sub bass thrust seemed to come straight from the centre of the galaxy and its purity of light surpassed anything ever measured.
He gave the “Enter” order and the most beautiful of all codes ever written, assimilated in real time the consciousness of the sub-matrix of the solar activity.
Soltek did not have the slightest idea who had nominated him for the World Peace Championship, but now he was there.