We woke up and were like, “why are there all these beavers?”

We may need a quality threshold here before we worry about the secret purpose of existence. 

Well, if I summoned an eldritch horror, I would just comprehend it. 

It feels like it's burning my rectums.

I wish to be bathed in your glorious fluids.

It’s hard to piss out your stomach when they’re tracking your shoes. 

You had me at lesbian grandmas. 

So, we’re the last pit stop before gay now?

Bubblegum butt finger blast!

This better not involve any more condiments. 

Nobody’s anogenital region is that red and tumescent. 

Your breasts are a personal attack on me. 

Who is bad milk blood robot?