Hi, am mendaR. Always Destin boy am I, always, loving lorry and posterior stories to destiy universe. 2 year past, when 16teen, I, MendaR writing lorry fanning fics. Favorites is always zavalla, best tightan and fist lord, big bubble boy. So shall I redistribute the wealth of this telling, sharing so maybe Cozmo, dgm, ory deej can see, and you watchers who clicked. Here commencement of first suction: Woggy, gooey, trumpets herring the kangaroo sunrise. Big is orange goo ball of fires in east sky. Breakfast time. A man sleeps, a big blue man. Sleeping in armor because he is the BIG daddy. The mastar tightan, zavalla. Zavalla wake up, Hogan cannot hear the sound of turtle feet. But twice or more, three times the rangent, zavalla swoops as batman from bed. Femur torque, zavaala looking ingo mirror. -blam!-, -blam!-, I'm to work he sazys. But foot sticks to ground. Mind wanders back to bed like bee buzzing back to honey house. Zavalla peers from window like leering goose head, and scratches noze: Ah yes, 10 year past today I opened the bean can. So the master blue boy remembers, and even sighs. What was the can? What were the beans? They were biggest adventure of the biggest boy. Zavaala walked like landy legged wort duck, down the steps, out into the sunny goo ball's flame of morning exposure. It was the tower, before Cable and nasty dominatrix Gaul plastered human city like splat of ball bat on senior citizens skull. Before Kayed chewed the dusts, or the black Doritos come Zavaala walked with the boingy step, the -blam!- -blam!- strut, the master man gonna whack sum big bucks swagger. Blue boy gets it, even when grandma pats the AC cain. Grackle. And the smell tuches the noze: Ra Men, yummy japan noodles bubbling in H2O. Big Z darts for it. Slaps the cash down, and slurps like eagle goat pillaging the hamster. Yum, says Z *expels stomach fermentations gleefully* But as walking to old office creepy shader grandma jumps out from back alley, sayz: Comandor, u should not strut with such zippy zoodle. Last week the macro cancer crashed, and more or less the first fruits speak: the baby is grown. It waits for you. Wute baybee zavalaaa asks Eva passes the gas and replies: YOUR Baybee. Inside big blues mind squirrels swarmed, lizards hissed, and pythons danced wiggle permutations. Big z could only set his ass cushions on ground, sitting with knees pulled up to chin. Shader grandma looked down at the strong man, citing against ground like sad boy. Zaalla colud only stammer a stand alone vocabulary: Wute? He asked. Shader grandma eva said like mamma who coaxes milk from the teat: Big boy, comandor, it is your baybee grown big. U MUST meet. Yeez said master tightan, u is rightful. I willis meat. So comandor stood, rose slowly like expanding pumpkin juice. ***conclusion of first part***