The
oath was scrawled on Ethiopian paper scrolls, underlined by the Laughter of Eve
and punctuated by shoddy room service songs. I'm just thinking out loud here,
she already forgot about it all in her rowdiness. I told her this happens to be
a nicotine nocturne, a time to mark reverence in unsolicited delight. Boy, did
she feel great as she graced my bleary larder. She created a Marshall from the material
of my gritty pants. Not a pantry though. Ne'er a pantry. Instead she howls like
a wolf in a gunfight.
She's
not the sort to hand over fathers, our spook, just you ask her. She says:
Better get me off the streets and hang the suckers high. It's not our time to
let the action hero loose on this bluffing killer town of killers. I'll see you
soon, we'll read in the dull moments. plunder and ponder and plunder again as
the sun becomes nothing more than a bloated orb of concentrated double time
splicing. It couldn't be a case of being set in my ways, I am quite friendly
with most creases I meet out in the world today. Let's see if the civil
tombstone fits accordingly but please hear the mayor out first, before he goes
off busy again. It's time to suffer preciously the hour and moment to be
authentic and ahead of myself. My Gorgonzola God-fearing self. I'm growing sick
of you. I've grown sick of your offspring. Get thee gone.
She
always passes around a carrier gun, declaring to the gulping and guzzling guys
that I'm in fact her brother and a chief pognophobic. This is the first time
I've actually felt tiny in a camel's year. It's time to be a can-can girl I
think, suffering from toe-curling, thinly-curved tuberculosis. What do you think
of that then? What do you bric-a-brac clowns think of that? Would I be a good
singer or should I stick to a life hiding behind sheets and milk jugs? Oops.
Whatever. That's just the just for you.
GET
YOUR MANSLAUGHTERING MITTS OFF MY REBUFF, YOU DARN MUSTY PLATITUDE! GET ME A
SIGN TO CHEAT WITH! AND SOME PERSPECTIVE TOO! JUST A SPRIG MIND! HELL! I'LL
FIGHT YOU RIGHT NOW! IT'S A-COMIN'! YUP. YUP. YUP. YUP. YIP.
And
she said: climb out of my baby talk, redefine nature by the good women they
raft and shaft out through the best and brightest parts. I fellate out of
severe porridge, out of bad day logistics. Give it a rest why don't you, I
might be persuaded to raid your dresser later tonight. It'll be the best clean
out of the century and I guarantee my promises.
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