Okay kiddies, gather ‘round. I’m going to tell you how the universe began.

So, Brian's dead and in purgatory (you didn't really think he'd get off that easy, did you?). But before he departed the earth forever, he sweet-talked St. Peter into letting him make two final purchases.

Remember how they auctioned off everything the man owned, including his testicles for God sakes! on eBay? Well, he bought back his balls (thank you very much!) and his brown leather jacket with black fur trim, goddamn it! Fucking vultures!

Now Brian spends his days and nights wearing nothing but his jacket, that's right folks, starkers from the waist down, just how we like him, juggling. Yes, juggling. He's got an eternity to perfect his juggling skills. And what better way to do so than by juggling his own three balls? He’d rather die than drop his balls. Oh wait. He’s already dead. Well, just take it from me, he never, ever drops his balls.

Picture it now. Brian Kinney standing on a white, fluffy cloud in his leather jacket and nothing else, juggling, juggling, juggling for all eternity. Or at least until Justin Taylor shows up. Years from now. Nah. He didn't make it to heaven either. Those two have some major fucking atoning to do.

He's delighted with Brian's new hobby. "It's about fucking time! That first night, no less than four limes and a kiwi hit me on the head. You were such a talent-less goof ball!"

"It was the E! The fucking E! How many times do I have to tell you? By the way, that bitch is wandering around here somewhere. I don't know how her fat ass managed to get in here, cause if anybody deserves to be in hell-"

Justin smiles patiently. He's heard it all before. "Brian, if you're juggling your three balls, does that mean you don't have any balls in your . . . uh . . . in your . . . " Justin looks around to make sure there are no patrolling deities or spy-angels in the vicinity. "In your scrotum?"

Brian catches the balls in his left hand - one, two, three and smiles impishly. "Are you in a real big hurry to get to heaven, Sunshine?"

"Why?" Justin asks warily. He’s really looking forward to the wings.

"I think you need to come over here and find out for yourself."

So Justin does. Dead or alive, the boy loves cock.

And that boys and girls, was the start of the cosmic blow job that led to the "Big Bang" that culminated in the birth of the universe, yadda, yadda, yadda.

And here we are today, you and me, all thanks to Justin Taylor and his wickedly divine mouth.

Can I get an amen?

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