South Beach Diet
Found myself hangin' with the fearless fen "twins" of Clan Destine again. You know the two...the scintillating hotties that routinely whip their tails around in coquettish fashion, those twin towers of lithe femme fen fatale.
Well, my approach is fight fen fire with Zo power! In this particular instance that entailed "accidentally" losing my shirt a few times, teasing the two with offers of a coin-fueled disrobing.
Eventually the steam had settled down. But really, I'd had my chance well prior to that when both ended up on the end of my chain. Had I not been perilously close to joining their poor bloodied bodies in the gritty sand of south beach (south of brambles on the way to Sav), I might've taunted them a bit. As it was, I was running and running scared at that. It was pathetic to see this once proud Zo running from the likes of baby crawlers. Any other day and I'm there whippin' out the drawn butter ready to roast those little fuckers. But when you're clinging desperately to the last pixel of health and kicking yourself for using your last tykan out on a solo coin hunt a few days earlier, you tend to put pride aside and hope to deftly sidestep the marauding lobster-wannabes.
My next trip to South Beach is gonna include at least one tykan, a boat load of drawn butter, and a red-n-white checkered picnic blanket. It's gonna be a crawler boil! And if those two fen ladies join me again, I'll be sure to bring the Chardonnay.
We were never here!
Well, my approach is fight fen fire with Zo power! In this particular instance that entailed "accidentally" losing my shirt a few times, teasing the two with offers of a coin-fueled disrobing.
Eventually the steam had settled down. But really, I'd had my chance well prior to that when both ended up on the end of my chain. Had I not been perilously close to joining their poor bloodied bodies in the gritty sand of south beach (south of brambles on the way to Sav), I might've taunted them a bit. As it was, I was running and running scared at that. It was pathetic to see this once proud Zo running from the likes of baby crawlers. Any other day and I'm there whippin' out the drawn butter ready to roast those little fuckers. But when you're clinging desperately to the last pixel of health and kicking yourself for using your last tykan out on a solo coin hunt a few days earlier, you tend to put pride aside and hope to deftly sidestep the marauding lobster-wannabes.
My next trip to South Beach is gonna include at least one tykan, a boat load of drawn butter, and a red-n-white checkered picnic blanket. It's gonna be a crawler boil! And if those two fen ladies join me again, I'll be sure to bring the Chardonnay.
We were never here!
