This is the new season for our underpants. This is how the underwire of history will support our bulbous contentions. Eat this roast goat knee and sit as we tell tales. Tales of great heroes and fearless accountants brave against all odds in the checkout queues of countless lost supermarkets.
Is this your tin of peas? Should I pour its contents over your already-eager genitalia? I see now why they call you Doris. Never before have I seen a woman who could do that with a whole set of Tupperware containers.
Go now and it will be time for country dancing and easy laughs once again. What does it matter what we laugh at? We will all soon be dead while the world continues to go round and round in its never-ending circle game. Is this how you want to be remembered, naked and covered in lukewarm chocolate sauce?
My tongue grows weary of licking and there is so much undiscovered country lost in the folds of your flesh, where there are entire Eldorados and New Found Lands just waiting to be discovered.
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