Mr. Minkman


      Mr. Minkman dressed to the hilt, called the shots and could sometimes be quite the mean muthafuckin’ man!

      Down to Grasso’s, right in the front row, Mr. Minkman orders his special Milan Serum and commands a high class whore to hand him the bones.  Time after time, Minkman makes the point, howling like an evolving Werewolf while passionately throat kissing lovely after lovely until the passion becomes too much, overwhelming, (Minkman IS truly the fucking man.)

Dressed, cozy and confident in his shiny Mink, Mr. Minkman starts to get really extremely fired up visualizing The Pink Panther and a team of synthetic bearded Terrorists working with him to construct a creative plan to rule the land.

“Thank God there is good Music soaring throughout this fine establishment.”   Mr. Minkman cannot handle any dairy and especially any fair ass, bang ass Tooter, limp dick ditties!

In walks an Amazon armed to the Teeth wielding a titanium tennis racket engraved with the letter “W”, as she begins to claim she is a Goddess from Past History that brought Alexander the Great to his knees and wielded the most ultimate Pussy Magic. (Mr. Minkman was not amused in the least.) You don’t confront the “King of Minks” with a feeble bluff constructed from Mental Ward experiences and distant Looney Tunes gibberish. JEEZER BADEEBEERS!

Mr. Minkman is swift. Mr. Minkman is stellar, sometimes consuming wholesome amounts of First and Second Growths from his perfectly tuned Wine Cellar.

OUR GODDESS IS HISTORY and once again Mr. Minkman Prevails!

THE END.

Please order my  Ebook  “Found Ground” for $5.99 at Paypal to robinsonderek@hotmail.com.  Cheers, Layden.

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