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#1  [S] Tea Time (Explicit) If I was a man of honor, my first instinct would be to introduce myself. But who am I to say what a man of honor thinks? A man of honor is hard to read due to his protective coat, thick and warm and covered with medals and puddle mud from a woman who couldn't just walk around. The medals deflect bullets, and the mud washes out into every article of clothing in the laundry that day. A man of honor lies still in a pothole, ducking from the enemy fire, until another man of honor comes by and throws his coat over him, and the honor is absorbed and carried away like that woman into a honeymoon suite. And then there are potholes everywhere. Please watch your step I say. No, I will not introduce myself. Second instinct, third instinct, none of it. Perhaps there lives honor on the other side of the window, but this is a solid frame with no thermal leakage. An insulated aperture. On his side is warmth, cake, and tea. I would kill for tea. My dog, my family, my self. With a hunting knife. Call it fenestration frustration. I can see the tea but I can't drink it! What is that? I punch him in the face and his window shatters. My hand is a bit cut up, but I was anticipating some blood loss. A dainty little squirt in the corner, a delicate little squirt in the planter, a darling little squirt in my pocket, all dry and buried like a cat clawing at a polished marble floor. What comes next is very graphic, you see. I take the tea leaves and drop the smurfers into a cup of boiling hot water. Don't look it's horrible. |
01-27-2008, 06:13 PM
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