Penelope Cholmondely raised her azure eyes from the crabbed scenario. She meandered among the congeries of her memoirs. There was the Kinetic Algernon, a choleric artificer of icons and triptychs, who wanted to write a trilogy. For years she had stifled her risibilities with dour moods. His asthma caused him to sough like the zephyrs among the tamarack.
I mean yes it's sexist and a bit ridiculous at the end, but actually? That's good dancing! I am impressed more by the dancing bits than the sexy bits.
That is a damned lie and you all know it. The dark brunette in the oneandahalf-piece? I would give my left pinky just to lick her shadow off a hot sidewalk.
I waited on that page for a couple minutes, hoping to hear more of the song
ReplyDeleteMy secondary man instincts chose the brunette as well. I believe a fight to the death is in order.
ReplyDelete