>be me, bonky >i'm with my horse-man pal, pickle horse-man >and my pedophile-enemy, slippery pete >and my new girlfriend, Isuzu, the mega-busty anthroshark who turns into a car >we're building an optimism generating machine >pickle horse-man's very pessimistic about it >i have to stop things now and then to console him >once the optimism generator is up and running these sorts of emotional outbursts will be a thing of the past >so really, once he finishes the optimism generator, it'll reduce samesuch similar setbacks across all his other projects >anyway, he gets back to it and Isuzu feeds me grapes with her butt >which is a sexy little game she and I created >not from her butt, i'd like to clarify >that's a different sexy little game we like to play >this one is more about the dexterity of her caked up derriere >i'm not merely being gross when i talk about this stuff >please understand, >i'm a horse. >we don't share the same epigenetic risk-aversion to eating doo-doo that humans have >y'all are known to leave a lot on the plate >and let me tell you >you leave even more in your doo-doo >we're talkin proteins >we're talkin vitamins >we're talkin minerals >all going to waste cause you're not willing to double-dip >so this is a YOU problem >anyways, >pickle horse-man finishes up on the optimism generator >and we throw the switch >and it's really loud >and it's throwing off a lot of oil and smoke >and at first i'm thinking this thing ain't gonna work >i'm thinkin this thing is brokin >but then. . . >i'm optimistic that this thing ain't gonna work >i'm VERY optimistic that it's broken >IT'S WORKING! I shout over the roar of its engines >I back up a bit >because the optimism it's radiating is making me optimistic that my ass might not survive it >we're all backin up >because we're optimistic about its chances of exploding >and the dang thing surges into a second phase >and starts shedding some sort of crackling radiation >and i'm optimistic that it's the sort of radiation that even a nice thick horse-hide won't deter >someone yells HOLY SHIT >because a massive wave of unrestrained heat cooks our foreheads and I'm optimistic it just baked off my eyelashes >we start running >we're feeling really good about our chances of escaping this excellent machine >we're screaming, some sort of animal screams rooted in an optimism that we might be joining God very soon or, at least, the adrenaline would carry us up to the point that the hospital can administer opioids