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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:
Quite simply brilliant.
All I can say really.
All I can say really.
"Novel idea"
No it wasn't
"I admire your ingenuity"
You idea plagiarising freakshow
No it wasn't
"I admire your ingenuity"
You idea plagiarising freakshow
!=
Haha, thats good.
Utter brilliance.
I hope you win something for this.
I hope you win something for this.
Say what?
stop trolling
“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: