A fable of gargantuan proportions. Not. (Or should that read 'Un'?)
Back in the Chronologically gifted days, lived a displaced home owner. Now this non-discretionally scented individual could hold his/her/it's posessions (sorry, I couldn't find one for this) in a processed tree carcass. The local youth group from the barrio-ethnically homogenous area more than several times attempted to reverse-love (that's mine, folks, but you can borrow it) the above-mentioned non-specifically destinated individual.
The local law enforcement officer/s, being uniquely proficient in their own area of expertise (which means nothing, basically) held that this non-random earth child was actually a member of the mental explorers club. In other words he/she/it was one of the selectively perceptive. Or just non-adorned motivationally dispossed. A uniquley fortuned individual on an alternative career path. Kinesthetically challenged, the size ten clod-hoppers would treat the unaffiliated applicant for private sector funding to a time of leisure-seeking within the fenced-in boundaries of the non-global correctional institution.
There was less than something but I mean Far Less that the client didn't hate than a good prescription's worth of constructive feminist (non-masculine) psychtherapy, where he would have a conjoined meeting nasally with persons of the difficult-to-meet needs variety, cost of living adjustment speciallists and other least-best men of differing unclean-lucre gathering skills. PIndividuals of the non-doubtful trickster persuasion.
After more than one of these hourly or more appointments our in-vain-man-with-his-underwear-on-the-outside-of-his-tights was led to a non-planned re-examination of previously digested food choices. This being the learning outcome of the economically marginalised human, the powers that exist in an ongoing time continuum were manipulated in a hand-tied-behind-the-back manner perspicuous to the event in hand (but not-tied before the retro spinal-osteo-varietal [variety]) to open the door of opportunity and rotate an un-seeing optic to the outwoard travelling of the victim of society.
Have I lost you completely yet? I will finish on a positive sounding musical-verbosity...
He/she/it veered off the chosen path to find himself the nearest rapid-nutrition outlet and bought himself a non metric measurement of seared mutilated animal flesh. Transitionlising his non-counter ego into a petroleum transfer technician, with over the top designs of one sunshine-filled twelve hours of becoming a garbologist in the university of non-deadness, our inept exterior-undie wearer existed in a basically existential existance neither sadly nor tearfully in what is known as an any-number-divided-by zero time zone.
Now wasn't that uniquely proficient of the person who environmentally non-correctly behind this dermis?
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