Then...from just watchin' me pose, he decides he wants me to star in his new movie production. He said he was goin' to make me an offer I can't refuse...
...so yeah...this here's the offer I'm not supposed to refuse...a freakin' liscence plate wit' the name of his movie..
So, I was like. "Whatchu smokin' yo fat cupcake eatin' muthafucka!?!"
Well, he tried to convince me anyways... wit's what he was smokin'...
But he don't scare me 'cause I'm strong like that. So, as I was 'bout to reiterate my first response to cupcake's request ...what comes round the corner...like a virgin....but Mary wit' the lamb she just caught....
Well, cupcake whips outta shotgun and blows that lamb strait to hell..
I was like, "what the fuck cupcake! What did yo go and shoot whats-his-faces's prince fo'? He been lookin' for him all his life! Yo' is the rudest bitch I ever met!!"
So, after cupcake says, "Did anyone ever tell you, you're cute when your mad?" He informs me that when he saw whats his face comin' at him, he saw another star in the making...
Cupcake's like, "Yo friend there would make a good But to your character, Ram."
Needless to say, back at the ranch, whats-his-face was besides himself wit' grief...so much so that he couldn't bear facin' the leftovers his little lamb left him...he's sensitive like that...
So, during this dead person sale, cupcake's got the nerve to show up wit' a pair of shoes for me...like I'm some mofo charity case, and then he invites me and whats-his-face to preview his other movie.
I was like, "Yo cup...where's whats-his-face's pair o' shoes?? Don't he get a pair fo' yo' rude display the other day?"
So yeah, somethin' about cupcake was gettin' to me.. despite him bein' one rude bitch, I found myself lured to him like cement to shoes...yeah them shoes he bought me had cement soles...but I kinda like 'em 'cause I'm strong like that.
Still wantin' us to star in his new movie, he comes at me again wit' mo shoes...cupcake's got one helluva shoe fetish...
He tries winin' and dinin' me...and I'm findin' it hard resisitin' his charm but since I'm so strong, I was like,
"Yo Ton'....ya shot po' whats-his-face's prince strait to hell...what's he 'posed to do now? Me 'n yo's cool...but that leaves muh boy high and dry...ya know?"
So, he responds wit' "Pussy."
I was like, "What part of that lamb yo' shot to hell had a pussy?!? Hmmmm?"
So cup freaks out. "No, ya fuckin' moron...muh Pussy...BIG PUSSY!"
I was like, "Cupcake...if yo gotta pussy...lemme just tell ya right now... whats his face ain't interested!"
Well...as it turns out...Big Pussy ain't got no pussy...he just is Big Pussy...
So yeah...I got myself a cupcake and whats-his-face gotta Big pussy....life is good...
...except for when cup starts tellin' me some shit 'bout some birds who can't hear and some rough beast. I wish that son of a bitch beast was born already so he could come and eat these goddamned ducks...
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming!
Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight:
somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs,
while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming!
Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight:
somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs,
while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
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