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Story No. 39163
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With many a flirt and flutter my butternutter flapped faintly freakish for my feathered fame.
There's a song that goes along with the whole get-up, something I like to break out from behind old ladies on dark streets when they least expect it. I spread my wings, drop my drawers and sing out at the top of my lungs, "OH...
Zarathustra, sage mir, weshalb ist dieses Leben so voller Schmerzen? Warum ist die Welt nichts anderes als Wille und Vorstellung? Are you going to finish that bagle?"
She was caught short. "uhm, it's a beagle, actually..." she demurred, hoping that he would not ask for a bite.
To not do this (or 'to do this', when we take 'this' as replacing "not to do this") was of course strange for a man who called himself Vlad Tshepesh. But there many things we don't
want to see as an embodiment of Christ. Though it is to be expected that I am one. Dum Dumdudumdumdum Messiah!
Brogel
lililoli
