You Should Allow a Friend

A shifting pervert ankle mired in slush previewed to me an illustration of her gasoline-powered desire machine. "I haven't softened the whirring, and so my dreams have become silenter," she sputtered, "otherwise, there is no longer any risk of fire hazard, and the neighbor's children have been very excited to be strapped into the rotating enclosure of the red pattern waves." All the outmoded emphasis of her grotesque gyrations and spattered garments recalled to me the lusty lackaday of the early warm season, which I insist you all contemplate for the remainder of this phase.