The title is slightly inaccurate, I just felt like making a reference to that shitty Nick Cage movie. The reality of the situation is that this willy wonka can't even last 5 seconds. Getting to the 1 minute mark would be like an olympic achievement.
Real? Deceptive editing? The Goku of premature ejaculation? I don't have the answer this time. But just imagine if he went even further with this talent. Plan-B's entire industry would need emergency funding.
What happens when you try to clone Mike Tyson, but the machine takes the eggplant emoji seriously? Sorry, but that specimen needs to be noted here. Was it's purpose to inflict maximum damage, or an aerodynamic choice to reach a new velocity?
The upside to being treated like the exhaust pipe of a Chevrolet El Dorado? Literally nothing. All you have to do is breath and the alpha male fantasy fan fiction will magnetize to you like a herpes outbreak at a Playboi Carti concert.
I haven't come across so much reason to develop erectile dysfunction on purpose since going down the lore on [this social media creature]. It truly is an unfortunate day to have eyes.
Two semesters spent shotgunning Bud Light and using the sink as a toilet? No problemo. Thirty five seconds of experienced squabblenecking? Not a fucking chance. Ladies and gentlegenders - I present to you face of higher education.
Watch these little engines that just fucking couldn't get a new hold on reality as S-tier pornstars turn their sexual fantasies into humiliating nightmares.
This guy's dream came true and the bang bus picked him up. First, he's gonna make out with a professional cock sucker. Then after a whopping 10 seconds inside a vagina, he's totally gonna cum all over himself.
A solid plot line can make up for just about anything: Bad acting, low budgets, the marionette scene in Terrifier 2. But this assortment of genetic defects? They've got digital footprints like Tom Cruise has regressive Aspergers, and I don't know when this fucking ride is gonna end.
Honestly this one could have rolled credits right after Donatello got his tits greased with tomato sauce and you'd still have an unwanted memory to try eradicating for the foreseeable future. But where's the fun in that?
