OK….yo shit prolly taste like battery acid but good for him if he loves it. My girl black and she taste like various flavored Capri suns.
I think we both know who’s winning here.
a magician asks you to pick a card - any card, in fact. you do. they ask you to put the card back in the pack - anywhere in the pack, in fact. you do. they walk away. ten years later, your wife gives birth to the six of clubs. “is this your card?” the midwife asks, in a familiar voice.
what the fuck