A: I want to be a pure emotion instead of this human back-of-the-throat need
B: I like transdermal patches of anything
A: I can do a good 'personation of a human trach. Wanna see it?
B: I prefer the venation of the leaf. Red, supernal, pillows stolen bring the best dreams.
A: Every first date should involve the participants acting out a scene from Fargo. Preferably one that takes place in a snowy field with no tall vegetation whatsoever. I call dibs on the long shot.
B: A Gund smallish panda looking at me from a dark room. Just now I passed. Wondering.
A: Sad and beautiful. Are words like those machines that make ocean sounds to help one fall asleep.
B: Triage is overrated.
A: I use a Milan Kundera novel to shim a mechanical assassin automaton. She says this funny thing about the unbearable lightness of virtue. Virtue with its deer bones.
B: Roman tinder?
A: Roman tinder redux.
B: Men who call men boys belong in the innermost circle of Hell. With stuffed animals in their arms.
A: The sandwich was named for a prick. I can taste that when I'm eating it.
B: Not enough people appreciate lucite or appetite or renascence spelled gay like that.
A: Humph. That's an appreciation.
B: I thought so. How many things can you think to shotgun from one lover to another? I stopped at fourteen. That would be a pretty visual sonnet.
A: YouTube would agonize for days whether to delete it.
B: I am not deletional any longer. The meds helped. I don't take any.
A: This isn't Doonesbury. Shut up. Get that door, please.
B: It's the Excoriator. He says he's here for the Baby. Is the Baby available?
A: Let me check. I think he was giving someone a blowjob fifteen minutes ago. But he could be anywhere by now.
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