The Charmeleon yawned, his feet dragging

The Charmeleon yawned, his feet dragging as he stumbled out from his rocky den. The sun had already climbed over the mountain's peak by now; the lizard had slept very late indeed.
He squinted against the sun's harsh glare, and he looked around, wondering what that noise he'd heard was. Should he investigate? His stomach growled. He needed food, and...
probably an icepack to sit on, that was most certainly NOT "just an ancient Chinese massage technique." Unfortunately, all this inner monologue distracted him from
being a smurf. Vanity would look at his gorgeous blue face (that looked exactly like all the other smurfs) but some how, HIS fact was the hottest. He'd just inner-compliment
my soul, and the two of us would be like blue and orange. Complimentary. I asked him on a date, but he was too busy talking to his mirror to hear me. What I needed was a plan.
the plan was for us to be crimson and white instead of blue and orange! because then he would pay attention to me so i said Roll Tide! and he said
I remember when i was a young boy and one time i
went to band camp. Band camp was the place that really taught me how to be a man and how to successfully perform a
flute solo. Then I performed the best flute solo in the history of flute solos for Ms. Veronica Corningstone and eventually had pre-martial sex with her. It was
then that I realized that Saints Diago truly meant a whales vagina. When in Rome I guess.

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