I went to the market to buy bread

-Cherry Cuntea

It's funny. Every person on this planet. Every screaming tiny jumble of fleshy bits. With their penetrating vacant stares. Grub grub hands that squirm and wiggles has a story to tell. "Went to the market to buy bread." "Went to the market to buy bread and bumped into Steve." "Went to the market to buy break and fucked Steve behind the ice machine." "Went to the market to buy bread and got robbed at gun point by Steve." "Went to the market to buy bread, bumped into Steve, fucked him behind the ice machine, he robbed me at gun point and I ran over a puppy."

Steve really gets around. Never saw that shitty little pooch and yeah, but at least I got the bread…

One snipet of a scenario. One bit of the continuous growing branch in this circle of life. Eat it Disney. We all have stories to tell from our own past that enhance our fucking future. Whether we let it fester in us and eat us whole till we become walking shells or…that shit becomes the fertilizer for growth. We all have stories to tell that could help some of the dumb fucks, bum fucks and over all the fucks in this fucked up existence. Where everyone is right and everyone is wrong and everyone prefers the rage over the cooler.

My freaky cunt bags this is yet another story. One you may agree with. One that you may just want to use as yester years loo paper for your hairy ass. But at least presuming you are still reading this one story you will find yourself reconnecting within your own life.

I went to the market to buy bread…