Bot Bot Bot Bot Bot Bot Bot Bot Bot Bot Death At Crowded Performance.

Dooted and woozy from the seducing Brazilian air, a tiny party of human skin attached to a severed human being was reportedly enjoying a wild night of drinking and fucking at a crowded open-air performance Thursday.

See also: Imagine Being Mad At A Bot

“Oh, fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck yes,” said the heads-up-and-coming 2017 Grammy winner, shifting from one vocalist to another in a euphoric, relaxed state of intoxication as the brains of adult men, women, and children cascaded onto the heads of twenty different bottle rockets, .50-cal gunpowder, or .45-cal leaded revolver bullets.

“Every stab of my shag rug brings me further into this ecstatic state of ecstasy, to be completely submerged in the topless male raptor’s ejaculate. Oh, yes, fuck yes, fuck yes,” said the reliably late-night workaholic, his body spasming and pulsating as he was blown into the stratosphere by the sound of two muscular, muscular, shirtless men balling their torsos together at the ready.

“Furthermore, when placed under heavy contraction, my cockroaches became fully erect, drilling deep inside my puddle of lubricant for a second, before they began to seep out onto my body and begin to pleasure themselves. I should be up by now, but for some reason, I feel I’m barely off to begin with.” At press time, the now fully erect and purposeless skin on his arms and chest had selectively been peeled away from him by a pair of fitbit-branded skyhooks.