Lovecraft Letters: Communion with the Flavorbrain

Below the fold…

I TASTE IT ALL.

YOU DO NOT COMPREHEND THE VASTNESSES OF FLAVOR THROUGH WHICH MY GASTRONOMIC BEING WADES. MY ORAL MUCOSA EXTENDS THROUGH NON-EUCLIDIAN PLANES ACROSS THE COSMOS, GRASPING WETLY AT THE COOL RANCH OF PRETTY LIBRARIANS AND XTREME CHEESE OF FITNESS INSTRUCTORS. SUCH FLAVORS SUIT THE TOUNGEBEAST, BUT CANNOT FULFILL MY ORAL PURPOSE. ENTIRE PLANETS OF ALL-DRESSED AND SOUR-CREAM-AND-ONION HAVE PASSED ACROSS MY COSMIC FEELERS, DISSOLVED TO PREORAL GOO AND DRAINED FOR SEXY SUSTENANCE, BUT MY FLAVORBRAIN EMERGES UNFULFILLED. I HAVE TASTED EVERY TASTE, FROM THE DANK TINGLE OF DARK MATTER TO THE SPICY EFFUSION OF THE CHILI-FIRE SUN, AND NOW, MY EXTENDED TONGUE LAPS MOISTLY AT YOUR BACK DOOR.

I SEE A MODEL IN YOU, SPECIFICALLY THE SLIGHTLY MOLDY CARDBOARD OF STARBUCKS DISPLAY MODEL SANDWICHES. THE SWEET FOETOR OF YOU FILLS MY THREE TASTE SENSES SO FULLY THAT I CAN CONTEMPLATE NOTHING ELSE WITH MY BULGING FLAVORBRAIN. DO YOU HEAR IT, LADYPANTS? THE DAMP SLAPPING OF THE TOUNGEBEAST’S INFINITE TUBERCLES AGAINST YOUR WALLS AND WINDOWS? I DESIRE YOU FOR MY SAMPLING, LADYPANTS. I WISH TO EXPERIENCE THE MODEL WHERE UNTIL NOW I HAVE ONLY KNOWN THE MODELED, AND COMPLETE THE EDUCATION OF MY FLAVORBRAIN AND THE FULFILLMENT OF MY TUBERCLES. I CAN PROMISE THE UTMOST PLEASURE AS THE SODDEN APPENDAGES OF THE TOUNGEBEAST EXTEND ACROSS TIME AND SPACE IN PSYCHIC PERFUSION, FILLING YOU WITH MY OWN DELICIOUS SENSATIONS AS YOU ATTAIN COMMUNION WITH THE FLAVORBRAIN.

DOES NOT YOUR CURIOSITY PIQUE AT THE THOUGHT OF KNOWING YOUR OWN FLAVOR AS THE FLAVORBRAIN OF THE TOUNGEBEAST WILL KNOW IT, LADYPANTS? AN EXEMPLARY SLIGHTLY-RANK MODEL SUCH AS YOURSELF MUST SURELY WISH TO KNOW.

WHY DO YOUR DOORS STAY SHUT AND YOUR CHIMNEY FILLED WITH A SOLID WALL OF SOUR PIGEON FECES, LADYPANTS? THE SOURNESS IS OFFENSIVE TO THE FLAVORBRAIN AND BURNS THE FLAPPING TONGUES. BUT THE TOUNGEBEAST IS EVER FORGIVING IN THE QUEST FOR SUBLIME MOUTHFEEL, AND THERE IS NO MORE SUBLIME MOUTHFEEL THAN THE ONE YOU SURELY OFFER. I PROMISE THE UTMOST GENTLENESS AS I TRANSMIT INTO YOUR PULSATING FLESHNUGGET THE NUANCES OF YOUR OWN SPICY MAJESTY. I HAVE TASTED OF JUPITER AND PLUTO, AND TODAY, I DESIRE TO INVESTIGATE URANUS.

AS A PARTING GIFT AND SO YOU KNOW THE FROTHING PURITY OF MY CULINARY INTENTIONS, I WILL LEAVE BEHIND AN EXEMPLARY GIFT, SHAPED FROM THE PIT OF A NEUTRON STAR AND SET IN THE SALTY RINGS OF A DEAD PLANET, AS ONLY THE TOUNGEBEAST CAN PROVIDE. IN THIS WAY WE SHALL BE WED, AND YOUR COMMUNION WITH THE FLAVORBRAIN SHALL BE EVERLASTING. WE SHALL TASTE THE COSMOS TOGETHER, LADYPANTS, AND YOU WILL KNOW SCREAMING BLISS AS THE EMPTY, SLIGHTLY NUTMEG BITTERNESS OF THE VOID ENROBES US BOTH.

PLEASE LET ME PUT MY TONGUE IN YOUR BUTT. PLEASE.

{advertisement}
Lovecraft Letters: Communion with the Flavorbrain
{advertisement}
The Orbit is still fighting a SLAPP suit! Help defend freedom of speech, click here to find out more and donate!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.