Alright, so he throws up all over his food. So what? He doesn’t have the enzymes to eat this crap. Your girlfriend is bulimic. Her $70 lobster goes down the toilet. His goes up his proboscis.
His eyes are a bit creepy. All five of them. Compound. Simple. Who cares. I can never see myself there. He lacks all focus.
And, okay, sex is pretty mediocre. Lots of buzz, not much climax.
But I tell you… That night you all stuck your knives in me? He was ready. My little larva. My maggot boy of salvation. He cleaned all my wounds.
Photo Credit: Jean-Pierre
Wow. Is this writing or craft! I am stupefied Nan Wigington.
Very nice story
I stopped by for some inspiration. You did not disappoint!
I’ve read this again and again. Inspired by your creative and original thinking!
Wow!
Wow. Killer
So creative!
Terrific, Nan!
Loved this, Nan.