Wannum??

In my Mötley-Fëw-outta-the-orthodox-boxxaroxx-7th-Heaven, e.very.thing is not only possible, but diss! funk! tional! Get this (only one of the googleplexion): Me riding to a hostel Upstairs; many, many, maиy young/mature models, swimming or sunbathing or snooozin or ‘all the cute🅫 who ηflǝw I was comin’ impossible to kiss/cuddle them all at once Egad, man!! What do I do?? I call down the Miny☆Mee! sHe shall make as many of mee₉₉₉ as needed, young or old, so the delicious-whip-cream-girls will never feel left-out unless they wanna watch/learn (or feed’m yummy I scream to die for: morph withe 111th nanometers, baby). Ain’t that cool shoes? Here’s another explosive, depth-charge-desire for all those warm, wild, wonderful girls who bypass this rotting, passing earth:

I mountain bike several-hundred-miles to a studio high in the mountains where seven young women, all gorgeous knockouts, all highly trained, professional painters are living presently;

Those adorable, young things paint moi, aussi on a cowch with a Polo, a tie and a hint of aftershave, taking a few hours, throwing out, re-focusing, starting over.

To love and to serve with joy every delicious, irresistable, intoxicating, wild-fire-female all at once, in every corner of the universe, would be quite physically impossible... so here's whot I did to envelop the elaborate, the endless, daunting expression of the extraordinary:

I whisper to them after they're done,
'Wanna catalyze the insane now?'

They just smile at me, swiftly realizing.

'How many do you have?' pointing at the first, tall, thin, gorgeous girly in influencial braids.

'About fiveish.'

She giggled,

perceiving the

perceptable.

'Then, take fiveish and go, populate the universe,' as I jumped-off the canvas into her most loving arms. 'The refuse, dear,' pointing with priceless, primordial passion.

Though I dont seem like it sometimes,

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