Experimental fiction piece.
There was a bit of drama, we were hungry and tired, and there was a lot of expectation on the delivery.
There was a really good curry house in London, but it closed down. We'd go at Christmas there after all the eating, because it's the best antidote for Christmas food. Anyway, George Clooney showed up at the place one of those years, apparently and he was really nice about it. They don't really care if he was there or not, they treat everybody like a normal person!
We'll have our roast, and play around with the cats, we've got all sorts of cat games, such like feeding them stuff and tickling them and tend them as we watch tv. If you want the cat to sit on you, ya gotta cover them with blankets. Eventually they'll get sick of it.
Would you rather drink with somebody wett wett mouth and slobbering with water, or somebody parched and dry, like Mr. Burns?! The tongue is not a sponge, okay, I did biology. It's just the act of glug glugg glugging of the water that makes me lose my erection, alright? Why can you not have water in other forms, I don't care for the water course, I'm nice about it, just bring out the real food.
Margarita is the best drink, though I cannot handle a lot of it. Though my favourite drink of all time is Diet 7Up, drink of the gods. Glides down like it's a slipstream! My tummy is tumbling around with it, ringading ding. Margarita on the rocks, the best goddamn drink, a night out with the girls, and you're in heaven. A margarita has a promise of a filthy night, and the possibility that anything might happen. And a Diet 7up says, refreshed, but not really! Which is what I like! I cannot like without diet 7up!
No comments:
Post a Comment
Tell me what you think. I'll read, promise.