It’s Morbin time!
# FAQ
## What does this mean?
It’s time for Morbin.
## Why did I do this?
There are several reasons I may deem you morbin-able to be worthy of being morbed. These include, but are not limited to:
I am very Morby
I see you being morbin-able
You morbed me first
## Is Morbius THE movie of all time?
Yes
## I don't believe I deserved to be morbed upon. Can you un-morb me?
Sure, mistakes happen. But only in exceedingly rare circumstances will I put morb-juice back into my morbenis. If you would like to issue an appeal, shoot me some thick morb-milk explaining what I got wrong. I tend to respond to fucking requests/comments within several minutes. Do note, however, that over 99.9% of people gets morbed, and you are is likely no exception.
## How can I prevent this from happening in the future?
Accept the reality that I stick my Morbenis into your morbussy and move on. But learn from this mistake. You were a mistake because I forgot to wear a morbondom whilst fucking your morb-hole. I will continue to morb your morbussy until you improve your conduct.
Remember: morbing you who morbed me first is a right, not a privilege.
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It's not gay with socks on
When I was 13 years old a buddy of mine tried to convince me to fool around. I wasn't into it, and he told me it's not gay if you're wearing socks. I didn't believe him, went home, and asked my dad.
That's 'gentleman's gay', hardly gay at all. Don't see it much these days.
The 50s were a different time. What were we to do? We were typical boarding school boys, rich with vigor, skin slick with drying sweat and gritty earth from a game of pigskin.
At night our young, virile bodies filled the dorm with sweet-musky vapors, like game-meat stewed with apple and peppercorn. You'd awake in darkness to the hushed, melodic rhythm of two pairs of white tube socks, barely visible in moonlight, bouncing on the hardwood floor.
The deep bond of male friendship played like a thousand different human instruments. The wet claps of skin on skin, the gentle thud of heads on backboards, frenzied cries in the throes of climax. Wilbur, so fat and soft like tapioca pudding. His breasts were so like the real thing, what we fantasized of our future wives. Unwilling, defenseless Wilbur, so slow and uncoordinated in the dark. 10 of us would glaze his bare, pink flesh like a giant raspberry danish. He once had the audacity to tell Headmaster Redford. But Redford was a Deerfield boy once, he understood. So he joined us on our midnight hog hunts.
Through college and years after we'd find time here and there, away from the wives at a family lake house. But it's been decades now - the times have certainly changed. If you wanted to do something private with another man, in your socks, it wasn’t ‘gay’. It was just two men, celebrating each other's strength.
What is inside that taco? Oh no it's REYNAD
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WHAT IS INSIDE THAT TACO 
OH NO IT'S REYNAD
WHAT IS INSIDE THAT TACO OH NO IT'S REYNAD
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Only the chosen wizard can wear his hat つ◕౪◕つ──☆*:・Molediver Hypers
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