Hannah lives to make balls die.  His, theirs, and yours.

          She’s on a special diet.  And you’re it.

          Skewers are on her skewed mind.  Skewed in your direction.  In the direction of hard cocks pointed from you to you-know-who.  A final hand job from Hannah, and your dynamic duo and your man-bat will be in the death grip of the culinary artist.

          Eve needed one of your ribs.  Hannah, however, has lowered her sights, and her dominate hunger will only be satiated with what’s between your legs.

          She dreams.  He screams.

          Consider it a correction of nature.  After Apple Snapple (paid advertisement), came the Creation of Man.  Man, the first rough draft of humankind, raw prototypes with venomous genital serpents.

          After wind-tunnel testing, it became clear that the cock-ball concept just wouldn’t do.

          Learning from the macho mistake, women came forth in streamlined perfection.  With a choice between Venus or Penis, the clear winner is always the tit, tit and clit – and that’s it.

          Tonight she has a date with eight.  Eight couples.  Eight supple wives to un-couple eight stupid husbands.  Husbands, Hus-bands with green elastrator bands already in place.

          Chop, chop.  Two final steps in the savory recipe called, “Barbeque You.”  With cut-by-number instructions from eunuch dot org, especially in Glans Removal and in the illustrated new play-by-play, The Commission, phallic decommissioning will be easy – and delicious.

          The charcoal grills are glowing.  The erections are growing.

          Hannah’s skewers are ready.  The beautifully bare-assed wives are steady.  Ready, set, kiss and cut.  Meet your meat. Then onto the spit:  nut, cock, nut is the symmetric arrangement preferred for the gourmet fillet.

          Yeah, yeah, yeah!