The Tedious Homegenous Chameleon-esque Wonderboy

The aforementioned Tedious Homegenous Chameleon-esque Wonderboy was a child of many tics. I. Perhaps it was the tediously long name. Neither. Or maybe the homegenous family of interracial intersexual international siblings. Know. But really, it was probably the Chameleon-esque nature of his hands that caused the tic affliction. Nor. Without seeing his own hands, how was he to know if they were clean, requiring the constant and painful bleaching? Care. Which of course led to the tattoos. So. Who can blame the poor child? Bugger. I, for one, cannot, shall not. Off. Lest we forget the shattered self, for without flesh how can one soul feel complete? Already. Acid may burn away the skin, but not the zeitgeist, of the wretch. Imagine. And a wretch he is, who will infuriate, insinuate, meditate on such matters as he so does. The. Sense is not to be made. Piano. Sense is to be tolerated. Man. Nothing more. Gin. Nothing less. Beep.