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7 years at Slut Academy finally paid off.
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I like mine ring-shaped and glazed, thank you.
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Yes, I do recall that evening at the waterfront: we sought the sky's amphetamine truth and a carnie sold me two roses; one that lisped & one that hissed sugar foam and love songs.
Needles that I slipped through your fingers, but they just crawled up both your arms and whispered. As that phosphorescent laugh drip-dropped from your lips they said "Oh! Teen ruby fiend! Open those thighs, show us the urchin inside!"
Your gown gangrened down your hips, reaching out towards the oyster ships. I pulled you closer for a kiss but the roses shaved my lips and made my mouth a grave filled with promises...
"I'll forget you when im famous baby.. I'll forget you in five minutes from now." -
Meet me at the waterfront, after the social.
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I became the epitome of kvltness by wrestling Thor til he cried, biting the head off a snake demon, and burning approx 665 churches. Email me a JPG of you wearing yr bestest corpsepaint and we'll see if you are worthy to be my disciple.
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Because I went to a LAD ORGY with A DRY LOG.
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Betrer than spamming, try fucking off.
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Yes, that is me. Buns Of Steel. Marshall Staxx AKA PARTYBOY AKA Captain Obnoxious.
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Fetlocks? Are you saying I'm a ponyboy? Or a piggy? Who the fuck are you anyway, Anon?
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Captain Obnoxious here, thanking you for the plaudits. I work out those uberbuff pins by wrestling polar bears and kerb-stomping cripples. YOU TOO CAN HAVE LEGS LIKE MINE! To receive yr STAXX WORK OUT VHS just send a cheque for £5.99 and a S.A.E to CAPTAIN OBNOXIOUS, PO BOX 666, LONDON.
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Technically this isn't a question, it's a request. Or a threat with a question mark at the end. Anyways... I have a slot free on my casting couch on Friday afternoon. Bring your headshot and a clean pair of pants.
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A bit of this, a bit of that. Recently I have built stuff on the internet, provided technical assistance for people singing karaoke and worked on the production of adult entertainment.
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Spelling the word 'what' is pretty easy, so I've heard. OH, WAIT.
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I'd rather suffer for my sex by the caravanettes, Mr Vane.
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It wasn't a midget, it was a SMALL PERSON. Fuck, are you some kind of monster???
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Kids grow up so fast these days.
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So people can anonymously ask you retarded / offensive questions without fear of violent reprisals.
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Of course. My standard freelance rate applies.
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The same sadistic asshole that left a razorblade in my Fleshlight.
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Marshall Staxx’s Bio
I go up to eleven.
