If I were to have a 4 foot by 8 foot by 6 foot altar adorned with pillow mints, fresh elderberries, cinammon scented candles, and one well-worn 5" by 7" glossy in my basement, that glossy would be of Jennifer Love Hewitt.
But if I were to have two, the second would be of me making love to Jennifer Love Hewitt.
But after all sexually humiliating Jennifer Love Hewitt altars, the strangling her altar, the cutting her up altar, and the storing her in burping tupperware in the pantry altar had been built, altar seventeen is securely in the possesion of Mr. Allen Henderson. And since at that time I'll again be single, he'll probably be the focus of altars eighteen through thirty-four as well.
At which time I'll yet again be single and coming for you Linda Hamilton.
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I ate a hooker half a bottle of knife.