I am an ugly snaggle-toothed mesianic messenger,

I am an ugly snaggle-toothed mesianic messenger, stubby wings and hands, and chicken feet. Read my unscrollling locks, as I rise like a phoenix. for my historic tweet.

On and see how you respond when they try to eat your words. They have teeth and voracious appetites for new vocabulary. Their IQ is 200, I tested it myself. Isn't that amazing?

The whites of her eyes glistened in the fluorescent light, and shone with greed. When her lips parted, a voice akin to that of a robot's burbled forth. "Ain't that something."

It was something, alright. Every fiber of my being screamed "RUN!", but of course I didn't listen. "Look," I told her. "I like you. I really do. But you can't keep coming around

here, to my neighbourhood." I skirted around the issue. How was I supposed to tell her that I was afraid of her and what being in a relationship with her might mean for me.

She laughed softly. "You know you want it." She whispered, leaning into me and closing the distance between our mouths. And once it started, I couldn't stop.

Our lips touched. Static electricity coursed through my frame. The power knocked me into the kitchen. A low hum rang in my ears. "Let's do that again."

I pushed forward, trying to initiate another similar moment. But I wasn't the only one who moved.

My bowels were aching for release, and that was why I had to walk out of the opera just as the cymbals crashed.