Rap superstar Post Malone is currently in a precarious spot, aboard a private jet about to make an emergency landing. According to reports from TMZ and the Associated Press, Post’s plane blew both of its tires shortly after takeoff on its way to the UK.
i landed guys. thank you for your prayers. can’t believe how many people wished death on me on this website. fuck you. but not today
— Beerbongs & Bentleys (@PostMalone) August 21, 2018
Post Malone is the grime underneath your fingernails. He’s like if the Oscar the Grouch had a child with Pigpen from Charlie Brown and that child was gestated in Oscar’s garbage can for about 20 years before he busted out ready to spread infections.
IT is a frightening story about a clown monster that lives in the sewers and devours children but if there was really a clown living in the sewers he would look exactly like Post Malone.
Post Malone is a yeast infection with a shitload of Spotify streams and today we almost lost this little half-smoked cigarette floating in a puddle of urine under the train tracks in what would have been a tragic plane crash and I say it’s tragic because there were 12 other people on board and that would’ve sucked to lose they brave men and women who sacrificed their quality of oxygen to be in a small enclosed location with the man who is the human embodiment of ringworm.
Post Malone is the 00.01% of germs that Purell hand sanitizer can’t kill. You know when you drop food on the ground, yell out ‘5-second rule’ and then pick it up to eat it real quick? He is what manifests if you wait that 6th second.
If you shine a blacklight in a motel room, all of the stains in the room form into one life-sized Post Malone. Do you get the picture I’m painting? This is a dirty looking motherfucker.
So what do you think Post Malone’s private jet smells like?
First of all, imagine being stuck inside that plane with this human compost pile. Probably smells like if you had sex with a rotten can of tuna and put the end result of that on top of an egg salad and then put that egg salad in a shoe box that has been filled with overworn sweaty work boots and kept that box inside of a corpse’s rectum for about a calendar year and then pulled it out and gave it a record deal, probably.
Maybe this near-death experience will be the catalyst that makes Post Malone turn his life around and purchase a bottle of shampoo for the first time ever. We could see a brand new man who discovers Listerine.
Thoughts and Prayers to everyone on that Jet who I assume must be attached to an oxygen for the remainder of their lives after their lungs were melted by Post Malone’s anxiety body odors.
Thanks for reading. Tweet to @TheLesterLee with your predictions of what this human bacteria’s private jet must smell like. Also, go ahead and throw Deadseriousness a Like on Facebook so that I can keep the lights on around here at HQ.