drinking chomp items glazed
with love, created by a machine and brought forth
world via conveyor
belt. Placed in a box which is set on your lap
for the car-ride home. The warmth which radiates from this
cardboard treasure chest into your loins
assures you of the miracle to come.
"Warmers run bro...No you go...Faggot! I went last time!...Fuck you, I'll go."
"Sorry man, I have no change for you, I spent my money on Warmers. Get the fuck away from my car before I stab you in the fucking face with my Jim Wagner Reality Based Blade
! Mother Fucker!"
"Kill that Warmer
it becomes a Lone-Ass Lefty