Priapic

Poor old sad sack, couldn’t even...... you know.   He slept out back. At a convent nestled in the alps in the Garden of Needing the Monsignor dines on pears, wine and emmentaler cheese surrounded by a bevy of nuns, unaware of an approaching coven of enchanted priestesses, dew of the Urchin running off their chins. The Judas … Continue reading Priapic

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