Mr. Diapers, forever looking from the outside in, had no real experience with living in a modern capitalist democratic society and so his own city’s ways, whys and wherefores were metempirical to him. His single prodigious ability of fashioning a diaper out of any and every available material was of no help and so he remained, and shall always remain, a stranger in a strange land.
I was in a prodigious state after leaving my metempirical mindset behind and dove straight into eating 50 pieces of miniature candies for dinner last night–until I threw up outside of my apartment building at midnight due to a sugar overdose.
Predigious honor or metempirical trip? From either perspective, the fact remains that eating Mr. Diapers’s Own Pasta Aioli by moonlight will mesmerize hungry vagrants and seasoned foodies alike.
The hours spent with you inside of me were bordering metempirical; quivering in wet, prodigious anticipation of your glistening shaft and it’s violent saturation of my portal brought me to a threshold on the fringe of any encounter I’ve had before.