"Welcome to Reptilia, the magic kingdom. When your ticket number displays, and the bells rings, go to meet your assigned storyteller."
All I know is that I'm at the Miami Mansion.
It's crack head central.
I'm walking down a corridor, fluorescent lights overhead.
Cockroaches are scuttling on the floor and rats are following, late for dinner.
I'm here to fuck Pla.
She's a crack whore from Chiang Mai.
First, I tell her to prime me by licking my ring hole.
She has no inhibitions.
I don't either, apparently.
Then she starts sucking up my hard cock that's pumped up with Viagra.
I'm about to blow my head off, this stuff is so fucking good.
Then I put on my DVD,
It's John Leslie Gartland, on a wank fest.
We exchange those kind of videos.
That's what meth-stained crack heads do.
'Man, are you blowing your load on your face?'
Not now, said Jodric Plinth, 'but I'm about to blow all over Pla's sweet face.'
She reminds me of those fish with thick lips.
She's a sucker all right.
I wouldn't go as far to say she's a bottom feeder.
That's reserved for Leslie, who takes his payment.
Leslie's 'Magical Mystery Tour.'
What a fucking blast all over Pla's face.
Now Leslie is licking up the cum-fest all over her face.
'It's what you wanted, isn't it my rough trade?'
Just because I hump road cases doesn't mean I'm your rough trade.
I'll show you what rough trade is.
I get a foot-long cucumber and ram it up Leslies' ass.
'That's going to cost you another thousand baht.'
He's the harlot of harlots.
When you don't hear from the dog, you know he's planning an ambush.
'A non-sequiter, doesn't make sense.'
It will soon, John Leslie Gartland.
