Hello ladies and gentlemen, it is an honour to have this opportunity to speak with you, and to hopefully enlighten you, on many a topic. I should warn you however, before we begin, that I do have a relatively mild case of Tourette's Syndrome. It shouldn't be a factor in my educating you, CUNT WAFFLE, but it may crop up from time to time.

Today, we will discuss the subject of sour candy. Sour candy first originated in YOUR MOM, err, the Mycenean age, when thousands of clairvoyant prospectors sailed the ocean blue in search of CHODA CHUGGING FUCK MONKEYS! It was the mid-fifteenth century, and the search for fossilized dinosaur semen was in full swing, just like YOUR FUCKING HOMO BROTHER, YOU DICK SWALLOWING CLUSTER FUCK!

This thing's semen was worth its weight in gold.

Once the prospectors arrived at their desired destination, which they found through the use of their powers of ESP and telekinesis, they decided to just forget the whole fucking search and gang-bang the pillowed-ass Queen of motherfucking Sweden, that leg-spreading whore. It was on their trek to find, immobilize and violate the Queen that they stumbled across the sour candy phenomenon. YOU PASTY TWAT SANDWICH. So, the prospectors, randy as your dad at a calostemy clinic, felt the incredible need to relieve the tension, so to speak, just like I did on your underaged sister's tits you roving shitbucket. However, since it was considered against the laws of man and God to drop seed on the earth, the prospectors decided to save their man love juice in small pieces of paper, because they thought it would come in handy later. IN CASE THEY NEEDED SOMETHING TO EAT LATER, THOSE ASS-PLUGGING BASTARD SHITS. So, they saved their seed.

A prospector. That pan is full of man sauce, that saucy oyster fucker.

By the time the Scandinavian winter rolled in, the semen, tightly wrapped in shiny paper wads, just the same way their dicks were tightly wrapped in each other's peeholes, froze over. As it turns out, the prospectors ran out of food, and turned to the tiny little wrapped snacks of life for sustenance. Their creation was tasty, chewy, and a tad on the sour side. Along their journeys, they even managed to sell some of it to local merchants, and it was marketed as "sour candy." Sensing a prosperous enterprise, the prospectors tossed each other's salads and decided to start up their own business. To celebrate, all 500 prospectors ravaged the Swedish queen at the same time, because they were a bunch of shit-eating salmon fuckers. And that, my tentacle-loving friends, is the story of the origins of sour candy. You flaming piece of asshole.

Site developed by DarkDroid Net. Property of Orgamecha Net ©2002.