>>41775058>>41775514After making his post, quite satisfied,
out of his chair Anon slowly did rise.
He turned to his 'mon, his snarly Grimm,
who stared quite blankly straight back at him.
Its eyes held no joy, no love, and no wonder;
Anon's admiration was clearly a blunder.
He held out his arms to offer a hug
to the Hulk figurine wrapped in Grandma's old rug.
The creature seemed to smile, through teeth like sharp shards
that'd been glued on his face by drunken retards.
Anon waddled forward, with plenty of haste,
and wrapped both his arms 'round the Pokémon's waist.
But this was quite awkward, since the 'mon's abdomen
Had this measurement around, in inches: Just ten.
It was a miracle, said those who had brain cells to spare,
that the thing could stand tall with its head in the air.
Now, Anon moved his arms and tried hugging its chest
which was wider, in fact, than his own mom's fat breasts.
The hair of the creature was matted, greasy, thick.
It felt like pure tar, and smelled like fat dick.
Anon lowered his face and inhaled the gunk
because he loved the aroma of canned baboon spunk.
The man liked companions with bulk and foul faces
since his feelings of compassion and hate had swapped places.
Admiration, tenderness, endearment, and pride:
these emotions never formed in poor Anon's mind.
He thought Grimmsnarl was infallibly based,
when in truth, we all knew: Anon just had shit taste.
