St. Germain & The Charismatically Uncomitted

The charismatically uncommitted Saint Leone
of St. Germain was a reclusive man since the
Inquisition had Sea-urchined his face.
Now deformed and an outcast.
He spent most of his time canon balling with ditching
schoolboys, in the nude, at the limestone quarry.
The inventor of the legendary,
"flying squirrel nut dive" was an excellent
swimmer, and was beautiful from behind,
neck down, and nude.
As long as he didn't turn around.


   His face no longer splendid, was a hiding place
for parasites and inchworms with mega phones and hidden
agendas. Thank god, he could quote the bible second
handedly and suck his own swollen member for days
on end. Once nicknamed "the fornicator of fibbery"
before his face was sandblasted by a hive of hornets.
He could turn a virgin's eye milky white, and fill her
mind trotting with slithering habeus corpus imaginings.
Not just because he was hung like a narwhale,
but because he was a real nice guy too.
Prone to scent his drawers vanilla and tiptoe through
the poppies. A napper and a constant yawner, he took too
much for granted and was chapter thirteened by the
grand order of stool pigeons.
Known simply as the frocked flock.


   Being triple jointed in the back and hips
kept his spirits high, and he drank those spirits
Friar Tuckishly.  Known to consume absynthe until face
dirty filled smooth. He could out cuss an under sexed
sailor while changing a cooing baby's soiled diaper with
his teeth juggling horse pellets.


   Many a sailor at Sea has wordlessly abandoned
his ship out of pure embarassment for having nothing
foul left to say.  Do to Saint Leone and his adjective
disintegrating lingo. (Cussless sailors tend to sink
slowly and almost always draw the feared six bellied
tunnel shark). Regrettably the sad bastards should've known
better not to cross paths with the leaky faced gentleman
from St. Germain, hence, they were shamed.


    A scholar and a hermit.
His father was a brilliant psychiatrist and renouned owner
of the neighborhood detox center. A patron of the village
and a very, influentially 'important' genitile man.
He had libraries disassembled in his good name,
and super malls erected with ten story parking structures.
His name was Gesu' Says-U', and he never completely
recovered fully from his son's public face draining.
Depressed, and heirless he joined the nunnery
to tailor their nylons and shrink his worthless
manhood in the eyes of the great lord almighty.
He failed, and is often seen rummaging through trash
bins behind the renouned private boy's shavery.
He claims to have constructed two navigatable UFOs
to date, and often lectures to the Robotic Lepers
in the bakery's back alley looking for unlevened
oils, and risers on the rise.


         Leone had a knack for botany and herbal
implamentations. Once a member of thee enflamed
"Expensive Masons". He was ousted for peeing in
the mud mortar (used to bond the logs of their
lodges together), and disclosing secret rituals
to retarded children at the Freptilian Ridiculian
Museum during special Education field trips.
A true educater of the freak, and a prissy
prophet. He made a profit on all of his information
regurgitations. A vomiter of anti-mundane gibberish,
and a huffer of extinct volcanic gasses.
He has often sneezed a holy snot scrimshaw with the
occassional alien lettering underneath symbol.



    Capable of creating powerful potions of invisibility
and visiting old scratch weekly.
Some say he is pushing the envelope too far unlicked.
Like the time he removed his own tonsils with a fly
swatter and some fresh squeezed arsenic.

       
     One day while de-batting his summer cave he
came upon a whimpering five toed sloth.
"What sayeth you this day monsewer leaf sucker?"
asked the curious Saint.
"I have been exiled from the green canopies of upwards,
my putrid faced Sir, and have lost my way, and my pay".
Replied the tipsy unright-sided mammal.
"Well this is indeed a coincidence and a wickless omen".
Stated the Saint.
"Quickley, showeth me your furry thing"!
Pleaded the Saint.
The sloth taken a-back politely declined, but to his
suprise, Leone flipped him over and chin leaned
'top his package"?
Yes! Yes! This is a tiding of good fortunes to come!".
Exclaimed the Saint.
"You have the chin notch of Escrustian complaisancy"!
"This is a miracle and a sign from the great beyond".
Devulged the saint.
"You are the only living creature that my spongy chin
hath ever accepted without clefting in two,
and chaffing ripe, to an oozing off purple".
Quipped the Saint.
"Does this mean I can stay for lunch"?
Chided the sloth.
"Why my musky mildew covered tree preener,
this means you can cook me lunch forever,
and you will, now get to it!"
"Ha, ha, ha, snort, chortle, sniff".
"Finally a chinable minion!" Trumpeted Leone.
After lunch and a good mounting you can feather
my calloused dong with a song".
Bellied the Saint! It better take all night too,
he wished out loud 'pon a star-gnat.


         But the sloth was warily undomesticated,
and decided that maybe he shouldn't be so trusting of
this faceless hermit. Then Leone let one fly,
and it flew well. Well enough to fell a flock of quail,
and lunch was served. This was indeed the start of a
remarkable friendship. Sir Leone then pissed a steady
stream up into the mid-day breeze, and down it fell
as trail-mix complete with yogurt covered raisins.
Yes, this was a fine man indeed, thought the lazy
herbivore. Surely a Saint bent on Poophood.

The End.

   
   Stay tuned for part 2 of this octaseries very soon.
It will further detail the adventures of Saint
Leone and his treeless sloth with a one of a kind
furry chin rest. Our heroes will run into big trouble
in the forest of shacks and shanties. When they bump heads
with Baba Yaga. A ruthless, toothless, broomless, Russian
witch toting a speed twitch and a sweet tooth.
Within her ostrich legged hut that's bigger on the
inside than the outside. We will find our trusted friends
in a stew of no goodiedness. Illusion? You bet!
And mobile. What will our heroes do?
Wait and see for free on channel twenty j--l-p-z.
[Brought to you by 'bend you' the first time's free.
The second time will cost you the farm, and
'Twixt all' the inbetween to everything].