If I Was a Deep Fried Breast Cancer Lump, Lightly Salted, With a Dash of Paprika and Dunked in Sweet Mustard...
If I was a Breast Cancer Lump, I would start a website called FantasticBreastCancerRecipes.com to inform the people on how to cook me right. Maybe then people would stop talking so much SHIT.
If I was a Testicular Cancer Lump, I'd be all, "DUDE, fucking chill out. I'm making your balls bigger" and then I'd tell scary stories to all the little sperms so they'd freak out the second they flew out of the pee hole and onto some dudes face possibly scratching him.
If I was a Sperm, I'd get all annoyed and say "Gaaah, what a fucking hot dog convention, where are all the chicks?" and then I'd look around to see if I could tell which sperms were homos.
If I was a Pee Hole, I'd totally learn how to whistle.
If I was a Dying Sperm in a Sock, I'd wiggle my way over to one of the other sperms and I'd say stuff like "Don't you go dyin' on me Jeffery!" and I'd whip him with my sperm tail whenever he seemed to be drifting off and then when I was the only sperm left living I'd look out over the death and carnage and I'd give the best speech ever given and then I'd shoot myself in the head and die with dignity and no one would ever know but me and some other bacterium who already lived in the sock.
If I was a Dirty Sock Bacteria and all of a sudden a billion sperm came sliming on in on some wad of goop, I'd probably stop and watch them as they glooped around looking for chicks. Then I'd shake my head back and forth really slowly while muttering "how sad" and then when the emperor sperm gave his final speech while gazing out upon the billions of corpses of all of his people I'd probably cry a little and then I'd get back to eating my Doritos.
If I was a Deep Fried Breast Cancer Lump, Lightly Salted, with a Dash of Paprika, and Dunked in Sweet Mustard, I'd say to Charlie Rose: "Oh Charlie, stop, there are lots of recipes on that website, I didn't change the whole image of breast cancer all by myself" and he'd say "Perhaps, but without YOU, there would be no McLumps and that's really when public opinion shifted" and then I'd blush and giggle a little and say "That's true I guess."
That's all for now.
Don't get caught getting hungry while thinking about breast cancer.
Your Gigantic Load of Crap,
Ghandi
