Solomon Gunner swaggered down the street like he owned it. He could feel the foxy ladies in the street stripping him with their eyes. Get your lusty eyes off my sexy body you perverts, said Solomon Gunner.
Yeah, baby.
He reached the doctor’s.
“Doctor, doctor, I feel sick,” said Solomon Gunner. “That’s because you’re fat,” said the doctor. “You’re a cumbersome-overweight-podgy pile-of-dog-shit. That’ll be forty-seven dollars.”
He left the doctor’s.
Solomon Gunner swaggered down the street like he owned it. He could feel the foxy ladies in the street stripping him with their eyes. Get your lusty eyes off my sexy body you perverts, said Solomon Gunner.
Yeah, baby.
He reached the bakery.
He ordered seven cream-filled donuts. “Go fly a kite, doctor,” said Solomon Gunner. “That’ll be five dollars ninety-five,” said the baker.
He left the bakery.
Solomon Gunner swaggered down the street like he owned it. He could feel the foxy ladies in the street stripping him with their eyes. Get your lusty eyes off my sexy body you perverts, said Solomon Gunner.
Yeah, baby.
He reached his Lamborghini. He drove off.
The foxy lady stripped off Solomon Gunner’s clothes.
“It’s all blood, guts, cream-filled donuts, and bits of Lamborghini,” said the foxy lady undertaker.
Yeah, baby.