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The last time I met her she was wearing a

  • The last time I met her she was wearing a nun's habit. She had this habit of changing costumes and personas constantly. I wondered what she garb she would be in this time.
  • I knocked on her front door, and this time she greeted me wearing a Little Bo Peep costume, though the skirt was slightly shorter than I'd imagine for an old fashioned shepherdess.
  • "Ba ba black sheep, have you any Bull?" I asked. She said, "Yes sir, yes sir, three crates full," and handed me the latest shipment. But the Red Bull was "sugar"-free, so I grabbed
  • her by the horns and said "Corn syrup, high-fructose. NOW!" But something in the effort didn't agree with me. I stumbled forward, knocking a crate of sugar free Red Bull over and
  • then backed into a tower of skyy vodka, the red bull, liquor flooded and glass shards flooded across
  • the floor & the foamy glittering mixture lapping over his feet brought back memories of walking on the beach in the surf hand in hand. He reached up for her hand
  • ... all he felt was the cold. Her limp hand had no more energy left, but was considerably heavier. "It's okay," he whispered, "it's okay."
  • She looked up at him with her languid eyes. "Whose bright idea was it to go Ice Fishing with our bare hands?" I tried to calm her, "Its an interesting challenge?" The heat of her
  • languid retort put the alembic of my desire on simmer, but as our fingers fell into the icy waters of the frozen lake, I did recognize that amorous heat might doom us both, and so
  • i left him naked and foolish in Arizona. He cried for weeks, the memory of my body slowly dimming. I laughed and hugged myself, please that someone else was as miserable as me.

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