tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717148.post5303056913027633624..comments2023-05-18T11:19:33.857+02:00Comments on animals stuck to the wall: I just called to say...EvilAuntiePerilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01278720691584010136noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717148.post-64672360511538932712007-05-23T18:49:00.000+02:002007-05-23T18:49:00.000+02:00heheheh...Actually, I ended up in a singsong with ...heheheh...<BR/><BR/>Actually, I ended up in a singsong with the expansively midriffed cowboy. I'll try to dig out some photos of the hat, though.EvilAuntiePerilhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01278720691584010136noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717148.post-15989819302222188982007-05-22T17:25:00.000+02:002007-05-22T17:25:00.000+02:00Well, just so long as you didn't run into a handso...Well, just so long as you didn't run into a handsome guy with blonde hair on a darkened street who somehow hypnotized you (even though it was dark and very difficult to even see the bastard) then lured you closer with soft words spoken with a touch of an ancient accent, soothing you as though you were a frightened rabbit as he leaned closer, then even closer towards you while you stood frozen and unable to move, finally making contact with your neck, piercing the skin and thrilling you with a burst of pleasure, only to have Mr. Blonde yanked back by some other man, tall with dark hair, *just* when it was getting good, and so long as Mr. Raven didn't send off Mr. Blonde with harsh words spoken in some foreign language you couldn't understand while you stood there, woozy and confused, eventually buckling at the knees, but caught just in time by Sir Raven who took you back to his castle where he cursed Sebastian for a fool, ripped into his wrist with his fangs, then forced you to drink his blood, which was at first really disgusting, but then warm and spicy and marvelously good, while he stroked your hair with his other hand, the one with the intriguiging ruby ring, and sighed in a way that suggested everything you ever thought was true about the world was about to be turned upside down, then I suppose life really *is* good and knocking over a sausage is puny in comparison. <BR/><BR/>And inquiring minds want to know: did you beat a hasty retreat after the sausage-knocking-over or offer to buy the Soldier-of-Fortune/Cowboy/Davy Crocket admirer another sausage so you could have a chance to get a better gander (of horrified fascination) at the furry animal tail?Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com