CanesTalent Scout
Recruit
- Joined
- Oct 7, 2012
- Messages
- 87
The epochal damnation of which is soon to be ejaculated across the ACC is of an epic profundity only understood by men of another dimension. The Richter Scale will soon insert his long-fellow scepter made of the dried Ibis carcasses caught in the harrowing crosswinds of Hurricane Hungus circa 1562 into the Seminole, into the Hokie, into the Cavalier, into the Yellow Jacket, into the man they call Dabo. The scepter will be passed to him from one grizzled old sage who lives in the Kingdom of Marathon, spackled with silver fur, and hand ensconced in gold amulets of souls taken in the times before the great storm. Now a new King, one immune to Bear attacks or Swine Flu, will carry the scepter, which had long been sought by the Goldenites of the North, a peculiar band of lardenous homosexuals who enjoyed imbibing ladels brimming with Elk fat and Salmon roe more than battle. Before the Goldenites were the Onion Shaped headed Nubians who while well intentioned were led by a blithering imbecile. Today, the Richter Scale makes way to his kingdom, adorned in a newly shorn Merkin made of the buttocks hair of a juvenile bulldog born in September. The Richter looks weathered and fatigued, at times even laconic, but his piercing hawkish eyes, clearly slendered from his ancient ancestors staring across the Central Asian steppes, inspire a new hope, and a steely, yet tranquil, resolve. While The Richter may at first appear common and fatherly, when the merkin is pulled to the side, a testicular orb of such grandiose proportions is revealed that it looks to actually fold inward on itself as a black hole consumes a universe. It is at this time, and only this time, when The Richter takes his place at the Podium de Hecht and clasps the merkin with clenched fury, slowly ripping to one side, and the heavenly thud of this orb-o-plenty falls to the floor with a heavy thud-like whack that can be heard all the way to Tennessee Street in the capital principality, when the smell of a 1000 deaths begins to release from the giant skin pouch causing women to feint, and men to taste yesterday's lunch...only then will the names of the Generals who will lead the offensive and defensive armies be extolled upon us. Until then, we mere mortal men, sit here, deep into the cold blustery night, fully engorged and elongated, pulsating helmet of destruction, at the knowledge that a new Emperor will soon take his place within the Kingdom of Cane. As we type together we release ourselves upon eachother and once again find our selves united, the whites, the nubians, the latins, the orientals, the proud Jews, of common Cane goal and intrepid duty to masticate the dried organ meatus of our ACC enemies. Dine my fellow canes, drink hardy, rest well tonight, for tomorrow we begin to cut out the hearts of our enemies, as a moyle snips foreskins.
