Lying on the bed with an upturned arse one quietly pursued
the art of eyebrow grooming. He slid in the room and stood there quietly for a
moment before he started to fossick around.
What are you looking for?
I'm trying to decide which of these implements to use on
your arse He replied
Turning slightly one saw Him perusing and fondling the
contents of the whack rack in a rather alarming manner
For gods sake why?
Well I don't have a shirt and I thought that it was a cry
for help He replied, as though it was the most logical conclusion
The cat hasn't been fed either. It's not personal and it
sure as hell isn't an indicator that one needs to be beaten
Well He said, sound unsure
Look, going to get your shirt...
Love you He said in that saccharine tone
No, no you don't and that word doesn't mean what you think
it does
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