There was nothing special about her story. She had a father who she thought might come and visit her one day but he didn't. She wondered where her father was. Maybe he'd got lost. Nope; they'd just kind of drifted apart and he was busy with his day-to-day life. Her mother on the other hand was omnipresent. At least it seemed that way. When she got up, there she was. When she got down, there she was. Her mother was everywhere man. You couldn't steal cookies from the jar because she would be down in the jar with her arms folded. She couldn't sneak out her second-story window and down the tree to visit her boyfriend at night because somehow, her mother would be right there in the tree with her arms folded. Wereent moms suck. The tree outside her window grimaced & the limbs creaked against the window frame. No escape that way. She closed the drapes. How to meet her boyfriend? Suddenly the acrid odor of her boyfriend's armpits came from the fireplace, and in he dropped, carried by this pit hairs, which he had braided into ropes. "Darling!" she cried as hen faced. Maybe she'd be better off staying here in captivity. Then, a growl signalled the dragon's return. Her bf fought it by flapping his noxious armpits in its nose. It gagged then paused, raised an eyebrow, and blew a little flame at the noxious armpit and it erupted into a gaseous splendor of fire and light. So much for fighting this cheeky dragon. She watched as the dragon roared in pain and flapped its wings, trying desperately to extinguish its stinking, flaming armpits. Her deed done, she mounted a passing triceratops and kicked her heels into it. The triceratops reared and began cantering towards the glowing dusk horizon. Though the dragon's pained roars never ceased, she didn't look back once.



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