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“What the hell are you doing? He said indifferently,” He said indifferently
“Stop talking like that.”
“Why? He asked, a smile creeping into his face,” He asked, a smile creeping into his face.
“It’s ruining the narrative, and you sound like a cøck.”
“Oh really? He raised an eyebrow.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s better.”
“Now what?”
“Just put this bit in there.”
“Like this?”
“Yes .. ouch! No, the other way.”
“Oh, like this you mean?”
“Yes, that’s good.”
“Again?”
“No, that’ll do for today.”
“Have you got a towel?”
“Yeah, here, and wipe the table down too.”
“Okay. Hey - how’s your mum?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I was only asking.”
“Were you?”
“Hence the question mark.”
“Oh, well she’s fine.”
“That’s good. Very good.”
“Why’d you answer like that?”
“Like what.”
“Like you - hey, rinse that out would you? - like it really mattered to you.”
“Sure. But it doesn’t. I was just making conversation.”
“We could do this in silence.”
“No we couldn’t”
“Why not?”
“Well, then there’d just be some blank pages until someone spoke again.”
“I suppose ...”
“Suppose what?”
“Nothing, I was just thinking.”
“Well, you can’t. More blank pages.”
He stared into the distance, thinking.
“What was that?”
“What?”
“That thing, just now. Not in speech marks.”
“Oh, er, I think it was a description.”
“Can we stop talking now?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Let’s see...”
He thought mostly about the other’s one’s mum. Because he really did fancy her. And the other one was getting suspicious. He couldn’t cover it up much longer.
“Put the cat out, would you?”
“No, wait - what does that say?”
“Nothing.”
“But it does - look - you fancy my mum? Dude, that’s sick.”
“I never said I fancy your mum.”
“But you thought it.”
“Bloody writers. Just put the cat out, okay?”
“Okay. Sicko.”
He threw the cat out the back door and watched it disappear into the night. It’s tight, firm, round lower-mouth shone deliciously in the moonlight. He licked his lips.
“UGH!”
“What?”
“You freak. You moderately articulate, catshagging freak. Put your tongue away”
“Sorry.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Me neither.”
But I like YOU, he thought. Something stirred down below.
“Get out.”
“Stop talking like that.”
“Why? He asked, a smile creeping into his face,” He asked, a smile creeping into his face.
“It’s ruining the narrative, and you sound like a cøck.”
“Oh really? He raised an eyebrow.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s better.”
“Now what?”
“Just put this bit in there.”
“Like this?”
“Yes .. ouch! No, the other way.”
“Oh, like this you mean?”
“Yes, that’s good.”
“Again?”
“No, that’ll do for today.”
“Have you got a towel?”
“Yeah, here, and wipe the table down too.”
“Okay. Hey - how’s your mum?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I was only asking.”
“Were you?”
“Hence the question mark.”
“Oh, well she’s fine.”
“That’s good. Very good.”
“Why’d you answer like that?”
“Like what.”
“Like you - hey, rinse that out would you? - like it really mattered to you.”
“Sure. But it doesn’t. I was just making conversation.”
“We could do this in silence.”
“No we couldn’t”
“Why not?”
“Well, then there’d just be some blank pages until someone spoke again.”
“I suppose ...”
“Suppose what?”
“Nothing, I was just thinking.”
“Well, you can’t. More blank pages.”
He stared into the distance, thinking.
“What was that?”
“What?”
“That thing, just now. Not in speech marks.”
“Oh, er, I think it was a description.”
“Can we stop talking now?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Let’s see...”
He thought mostly about the other’s one’s mum. Because he really did fancy her. And the other one was getting suspicious. He couldn’t cover it up much longer.
“Put the cat out, would you?”
“No, wait - what does that say?”
“Nothing.”
“But it does - look - you fancy my mum? Dude, that’s sick.”
“I never said I fancy your mum.”
“But you thought it.”
“Bloody writers. Just put the cat out, okay?”
“Okay. Sicko.”
He threw the cat out the back door and watched it disappear into the night. It’s tight, firm, round lower-mouth shone deliciously in the moonlight. He licked his lips.
“UGH!”
“What?”
“You freak. You moderately articulate, catshagging freak. Put your tongue away”
“Sorry.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Me neither.”
But I like YOU, he thought. Something stirred down below.
“Get out.”
Page:
Just checking.
...
Yup.
...
Yup.
Hmm, yes.
That's a good thing, right?
I liked it.
Muh
It wasn't that good.
Well, for half 11 on a Saturday.
Well, for half 11 on a Saturday.
It wasn't that good.
Well, for half 11 on a Saturday.
Well, for half 11 on a Saturday.
Ah yeah, that's great:
"I took my seat and looked with a grimace at the questionable meal Lois had prepared for me. Of course I would never tell her how much I was displeased with her cooking, but I think deep down she knew. The years had not been kind to her once youthful looks, and her dull and tired eyes lacked the sparkle they once had."
Lois hits Peter on the nose.
"I woke several hours later in a daze."
"I took my seat and looked with a grimace at the questionable meal Lois had prepared for me. Of course I would never tell her how much I was displeased with her cooking, but I think deep down she knew. The years had not been kind to her once youthful looks, and her dull and tired eyes lacked the sparkle they once had."
Lois hits Peter on the nose.
"I woke several hours later in a daze."
That's just like in Family Guy when Peter decides to speak in the 3rd person for about a week...
That was class.
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