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MMMEEEEAAAT!!!

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MMMEEEEAAAT!!!. This is a psychopath He appears every night to watch you sleep, or in this case watch you as you explore fj at night Good rampages, filling the

This is a psychopath

He appears every night to watch you sleep, or in this case watch you as you explore fj at night

Good rampages, filling the red bar and meat bicycle rides will come to you

But only if you comment(Any line from a psychopath)

LONG LIVE THE MEAT!!!
With a random and mad/crazy picture attached(Roll if you wish)

THERE IS NO FENCE ON THIS FENCE!!!

Tags: Good | God | Wheres | my | Salt

Views:	1179
Favorited:	0
Submitted:	07/12/2015

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#2 - isabelleac (07/12/2015) [-]

STRIP THE FLESH! SALT THE WOUND!

#4 - SilenceDeath (07/12/2015) [-]

I'll never forget the way her holes cried... The way she screamed in agony as she pushed the knife slowly into my sternum... Such a beautiful symphony of feelings, and at the end of it, she was so much greater! My operatic diva of flesh and steel!!

#3 - joshlolsgapedass (07/12/2015) [-]

O, that this too too solid flesh would melt
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix’d
His canon ‘gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable,
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on’t! ah fie! ’tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two:
So excellent a king; that was, to this,
Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on: and yet, within a month–
Let me not think on’t–Frailty, thy name is woman!–
A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she follow’d my poor father’s body,
Like Niobe, all tears:–why she, even she–
O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
Would have mourn’d longer–married with my uncle,
My father’s brother, but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules: within a month:
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married. O, most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not nor it cannot come to good:
But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.