lying sack of poo upstairs was basking in the sublime presence of his drosophila-spliced daughter. BigB sputtered out nasally, awkwardly-toned laughs of tight anxiety, unaware of any situation to deter his psychosis of reality. 'Yes daddy. I love you daddy' said dsd. The sheen of self-gratification curled in the corners of bbs chili-crusted mouth. Bb was morally superior in every way.
'You're a stupid asshole,' he said to sonic. That would show him to back-talk in God's house.
'It's my fucking house,' bb retorted on night, triggered by music without headphones. Bb was always right, because the mind of god is just perfect like his insectoid daughter. She was a work in progress to prove to the world the superior of hybrids. Bb believed hybrids were superior to electric vehicles as well, though he failed terribly to convince anyone of this in a debate with sonic. Bb never actually won debates, but if getting all pissy and triggered counted towards victory, Bb was a champ. Just like the mushroom shapes in bsbs neurons. Victory spread in excitatory signals in all states, amplified by the medical artistry of controlled stimulant drugs. The future was so bright, that bb believed that no justification was needed to signal the reasoning behind his ways. bb never needed to communicate to anyone his true intentions or beliefs about nature. It just existed in bbs head and nobody should ever question it, like a universal axiom of eternal significance. Wa.