A Good Time
I brought my new lover home. He was a bit wide-eyed--you know, with his one eye--about moving from Italy to England and eight years forward in one shake of a lamb (of God)'s tail but then he jumped onto my back and wrapped around me and demanded a piggyback ride. Since I'm just that awesome, I gave him one through the streets of Londontown. Sure, I could have brought him straight home but a flat looks like a flat looks like a flat and I aim to impress. We went to the skankiest club I know to dance and let him scare people a bit then went to my place and screwed like crazed weasels in heat. Not that I know what that looks like because I've never watched crazed weasels go at it. Ew. And a great time was had by all, and he only playfully threatened to kill the queen once. The end.