Adagio in B Flat Major by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was a very troubled youth. She was born with five fingers on each hand in a society where only four fingers were the norm (talk about unlucky). The need for opposable thumbs had long since been outsourced to Canada where evolution still took in the needy animals and obsolete features of nature’s design like frontal lobes and spleens. Nowadays, in this modern society, Tanya Tucker, a beautiful candelit walk on the beach, was in control of furthering each species’ development. And boy was Adagio in B Flat Minor by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart at the bottom of this evolutionary hierarchy, a lonely outcast analogous to the postmodern laughing stock of Tanya Tucker’s brassiere!
She, Adagio in Wolfgang B Flat Amadeus Minor, would cry herself awake at night because sleep was for the weak of heart. All alone in her room she was left with nothing but the comfort of a breathing pair of men’s boxer briefs and not breathing as in the fabric was very soft and resilient but breathing as in they were alive and had lungs. She named her men’s boxer briefs “Tonsillectomy” and they were her only solace in a wallowing world of self-pity and floss (what would a dystopian society be without meticulous oral hygiene?). Adagio in B Flat Minor by Wolfgang "Gottfried" Wilhelm Leibniz was very fond of her men’s boxer briefs, which, I should mention, were extremely stylish. But, this sentiment was not mutual. They quickly grew weary of her company being the chic-conscious undergarments they were; it was unforgiveable to be seen with such a deformed excuse for a human being. So they decided they would have to kill themselves, the only chic way to deal with an ugly friend who follows you everywhere (it's also a great way to get noticed in the fashion industry).
Here's how it happened: while that stupid girl whatever her name is (I keep changing it cause she's boring and crippled or some shit) was busy wallowing in self-pity again about her disgusting opposable thumbs (ugh, they were so gross and opposable), her men's boxer briefs scurried over to the window ledge and jumped onto the concrete below, spilling period blood everywhere (she didn't have any tampons, okay?). Amadeus Mozart in C Double Flat Vivace Espressivo Olive Oil heard the noise of her beloved boxer briefs committing suicide, but she had been so busy wallowing in self-pity and drinking diet turpentine (flavored with splenda) that she wasn’t able to save Tonsillectomy from a very sought after and timely death. So, seeing her dead, bloody boxer briefs on the ground below, she began to cry even more tears of pity for herself, the only thing she was capable of doing.
“Why was I born with five fingers instead of four in this postmodern dystopian society where four fingers are the norm?" she shouted in exasperation. "I’m the laughing stock of Tanya Tucker's brassiere and men’s boxer briefs everywhere.”
Then, a sudden realization came to her. "I understand now!" she exclaimed. "I’m a closeted lesbian and these extra fingers are just a scapegoat for my inner lesbian-caged torment. What I really need right now is some pussy.” So she went with a pair of scissors to New York and got married to some maple syrup. Some butchy dykey maple syrup.
"Bitch, get yo hands off mah gurlled cheez." (she's eatin grilled cheese and some bitch is tryina touch it)