"You know you're not supposed to be within

"You know you're not supposed to be within a hundred yards of me." He stepped forward, covering my dress with footprints. At least the homicide detectives would know his shoe size
except he wasn't wearing shoes. He was wearing poweriser jumpting stilts. He jumped over her and roudhouse kicked the Chai Soy Latte out of her hand. He threw a
fleeting glance over his shoulder at the head waiter. That was a big mistake. Quick as a wink, she tipped the contents of the ice bucket all over the floor. His poweriser stilts
slipped in the muck and he fell backwards into a freshly prepared baked Alaska. She took that opportunity to violently bludgeon his nuts with a claw hammer. Luckily,
he was wearing a synthetic nut sack and had the family jewels tucked into a special fold of the butthead thong he was wearing under the bevis boxers. He rolled over and scurried on
hands and knees to her feet "please baby let me do it to you" he begged. No! Last time you did it I couldn't walk right for a week. No! No way will I let you do that! No pedicures
no facials, no nothing. Now it should be my turn. She took the handsaw, held it upright in her lap and started playing it like it was a harp. The music that emanated from it was ex
hilarating with unperturbed clarity. (However, handsaws are notoriously difficult to master in the upper registers, and excruciating nicks and cuts to fingers were the price.)
I was thrown out of folk festival because I went from the acoustic handsaw to the electric chainsaw. People just didn't understand rock back then. I toured with a power tool band.
That was before I lost my hand, of course. Never underestimate the power of a circular saw, that's my motto. Well, that's my motto now. Before, I used to

Started: 2011-01-09 04:20:00
Finished: 2011-08-14 01:10:51

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