A few hopefuls dost the gutter seek, valiantly, vicariously, rearly endowed and sweatily so. An astounding urban sorcerer once spake to me, "KEEP IT RHYMIN' DAWG", a chromancer, a speaker of rods indeed.
And so this hue to the hue hue, shall hue a hue. And vomit I did, and globules of rodly origins emerged from its harrowing depths. Hark, the bell tolls! A penis set loose this hour, most toothy and angry.