aiisart

[aiisart]

An article about Joe Rogans nipples, written by AI:

**this is a fake story

Joe Rogan's nipples are unusual.The comedian and podcaster has long been known for his unique physical features, and his nipples are no exception.

Rogan's nipples are large and protrude from his chest, a condition known as pectus excavatum. This condition is relatively rare, affecting only about one percent of the population.

While some people with pectus excavatum may experience pain or difficulty breathing, Rogan has said that his condition is purely cosmetic and does not affect his health in any way.

Rogan's unusual nipples have become something of a trademark for him, and he often jokes about them on his podcast. He has even said that he is "proud" of his nipples, and that they are "one of the things that make me unique."

Despite their unusual appearance, Rogan's nipples are just like any other nipples, and he is able to breastfeed his children just like any other father.

So there you have it! Joe Rogan's unusual nipples are just another example of his uniqueness, and they certainly don't seem to be bothering him.

[aiisart]

The many different results I got for “Gothic Cat” in WOMBO Dream

[aiisart]

***Steven's Torment - The Villanelle Of The Night***

A poem by AI

Steven couldn't stop thinking about the night

It was just so silent and broken

But he could never forget the insight

That morning, Steven encountered a night so recondite

He had to calm himself with a michoacan

Steven couldn't stop thinking about the night

Later, he realised that the night was erudite

He thought the situation had become rather token

But he could never forget the insight

Zoe tried to distract him with a flight

Said his mind had become too unbroken

Steven couldn't stop thinking about the night

Steven took action like a blight

The night was becoming too unspoken

But he could never forget the insight

Steven's demise was trite

His mind turned into a pocan

Steven couldn't stop thinking about the night

But he could never forget the insight

[aiisart]

***Sorcerer***

Poem by AI

How happy is the angelic magick!

Down, down, down into the darkness of the magick,

Gently it goes - the saintly, the seraphic, the sainted.

I saw the the mighty priest of my generation destroyed,

How I mourned the magus.

Never forget the right and powerful magus.

Enchanter is master force.

master force is enchanter.

Hum.

Why is it so wooly?

The fat necromancer sings like a wicked art

Now portly is just the thing,

To get me wondering if the necromancer is porcine.

Don't belive that the faerie is light?

the faerie is dark beyond belief.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the faerie,

Gently it goes - the black, the nighttime, the colored.

I cannot help but stop and look at ancient jinns.

Never forget the age-old and past jinns.

[aiisart]

***The Curse of the Warped Kettle***

A Horror Story

by AI

Whilst investigating the death of a local fishmonger, a virtuous actor called Polly Jolie uncovers a legend about a supernaturally-cursed, warped kettle circulating throughout Cornwall. As soon as anyone uses the kettle, he or she has exactly 55 days left to live.

The doomed few appear to be ordinary people during day to day life, but when photographed, they look upside-down. A marked person feels like a spotty maggot to touch.

Polly gets hold of the kettle, refusing to believe the superstition. A collage of images flash into her mind: a cosy rabbit balancing on a tall fishmonger, an old newspaper headline about a drunk driving accident, a hooded pigeon ranting about arms and a drinking well located in a chilly place.

When Polly notices her lips have maggot-like properties, she realises that the curse of the warped kettle is true and calls in her nephew, a psychiatrist called Kevin Clifford, to help.

Kevin examines the kettle and willingly submits himself to the curse. He finds that the same visions flash before his eyes. He finds the cosy rabbit balancing on a tall fishmonger particularly chilling. He joins the queue for a supernatural death.

Polly and Kevin pursue a quest to uncover the meaning of the visions, starting with a search for the hooded pigeon. Will they be able to stop the curse before their time is up?

[aiisart]

“Enochian Magick” created on WOMBO dream.

[aiisart]

***Picturesque Athens***

A Short Story

by AI

Harry Noris looked at the ripped book in his hands and felt relaxed.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his wild surroundings. He had always loved picturesque Athens with its cuddly, clean cliffs. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel relaxed.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Tristan Noris. Tristan was a courageous teacher with beautiful arms and sticky lips.

Harry gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a thoughtless, forgetful, cocoa drinker with ugly arms and chubby lips. His friends saw him as a dangerous, dead deity. Once, he had even helped a wide baby flamingo cross the road.

But not even a thoughtless person who had once helped a wide baby flamingo cross the road, was prepared for what Tristan had in store today.

The moon shone like laughing dogs, making Harry cross.

As Harry stepped outside and Tristan came closer, he could see the fluffy smile on his face.

"I am here because I want affection," Tristan bellowed, in a stingy tone. He slammed his fist against Harry's chest, with the force of 1895 humming birds. "I frigging hate you, Harry Noris."

Harry looked back, even more cross and still fingering the ripped book. "Tristan, get out of my house," he replied.

They looked at each other with jumpy feelings, like two fluffy, fresh foxes laughing at a very clever rave, which had R & B music playing in the background and two snooty uncles shouting to the beat.

Harry studied Tristan's beautiful arms and sticky lips. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you affection," he explained, in pitying tones.

Tristan looked healthy, his body raw like a red, rare rock.

Harry could actually hear Tristan's body shatter into 5433 pieces. Then the courageous teacher hurried away into the distance.

Not even a mug of cocoa would calm Harry's nerves tonight.

THE END