He batted his long lashes, subtly plucked

He batted his long lashes, subtly plucked the thong out of his behind and began a sultry, whiskey-voiced rendition of "Sweet Transvestite"
. Clever, dontcha think? Standing in the window of his new cupcake shop, "Sweet Transvestite," Willard was hoping he could draw new customers in with his uniquely flavored delicaci
es. The cupcakes Willard planned to sell were the latest plastic sex toys that were popular in the sugary sweet sex fantasy culture. Willards' shop 'Sweet Transvestite was seeking
a laugh if nothing more. No laughter came. Hours past, still nothing. Squeezing a laugh out felt like passing an inordinate turd. I wept.
Because I felt like I was one. Nobody was laughing now, that was for sure. Nobody seemed to be doing anything of note. It was like an meta-ether of spelling derisive commentaries.
I hate a cutting comment. "If you can't say something nice then don't say anything at all," someone said, maybe my Mum. But she died after complaining to a psychotic waiter about
her asparagus touching her mashed potatoes. "Why don't you just serve me rat poison while you're at it!" she screamed at him. The funeral was closed casket. The waiter was absolved
of shooting his wife because he had left his gun in the restaurant and went back to the restaurant to get it when she was shot. The waiter cackled all the way to the courthouse
because he knew he was packing mustard packets and no metal detector would detect them. The waiter did object to being tried in a TV courtroom with a celebrity j
iu-jitsu fighter from Brazil as the judge...afterall he was a boxer in his heart and he would never betray his noble art!

Started: 2013-01-18 21:49:20
Finished: 2013-06-05 19:37:45

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