Classy.

Carl Paste was masturbating furiously into a small, glass fishbowl. He scanned the pictures arrayed out before him like a personal buffet of kink, halfheatedly grunting at the images of girls doubled over and filled with strange things that cause their stomachs to bulge in weird ways. It wasn’t really how Carl got down, but it was the first thing he had pulled up on the Google search, and he was in a hurry. He had to do this before good judgement- or worse yet, apathy- had set in. Straining to find even one of the images in any way erotic, he noticed the way one girl’s hair curled around her breast, hanging upward toward her shoulder as a result of lying at an awkward angle, the gleaming fuselage of a model airplane jutting horribly from her clenched genitals. Carl’s belly heaved at the sight and he relaxed, satisfied. For a few seconds, he watched the winding ropes of himself drift lazily in the lukewarm tapwater, but a cramp in his right calf snapped him from his reverie. He had tasked himself with an experiment bourne of boredom and desperation and he was bound by will to see it through. He reached for the tiny packet marked “INSTANT: SEA MONKEY EGGS!” and tore the top off of it with his teeth. Ever so carefully, he poured the dried ova into the clear water, smiling at what would no doubt soon be his only legacy.