June 2nd, 2008

Sister Death

Man's Best Friend

tharain calls the kennel to check on his beloved dog:



"I went in to see him when I came in and he wiggled and wagged his tail," she said.


"Did he?" I replied. "That's great." Funny, I thought. He's never wiggled with delight when I come home. He just stares.


"Yes," she said. "And then he did that little tap dance he does."


"Tap dance?" What fucking tap dance?


"You know, the little dance he does. He lifts one front foot, then the other, and dances back and forth."


"Oh, that tap dance." The happy tap dance I have never ever seen, that little TART.



QWP; context is here.

getting a slap is better than getting bo

in bad_sex, eimran knows how to apologize:

I start to plan THE BLOW JOB. Not just any blow job--I am aiming for the HOLY GRAIL of blow jobs. He's wonderful to me, he deserves it. I imagine this blow job will not only say "I'm so sorry" and "I love you" but it will also cure cancer, end world hunger, and cause a chorus of angels to break out into Hallelujahs.

Context is flocked but QWP.
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    Semisonic -- Completely Pleased

ghostpaw has a rep to maintain...

In my six weeks of my new job, I have acquired a reputation. I am the person who doesn't object to dissecting horrible things. Recognisable body parts, day-glo pus the consistency of school custard, that sort of thing. In lab terms, this is a bit like being the person who can herd spiders, people are very grateful, but they think you're a bit odd. (Not that I can herd spiders, mind.)

That said, when the necrotic pair of toes I was dissecting today went splort, that I did not need.


Context gets all the best jobs.