Marty lent faith (and ten dollars) to a complete stranger, some
Australian guy, and thought he’d
get that girl of his (he’d also lent his girl) back, and oh
she did like paisley – could even wander cautiously into
that first-person-fornicator view
people with red curls in their blood do cautiouslessly.
Roller coasters may cause cat-level head pressure at
the bottom of the loop, people can pick only
from cat-level bookshelves; like, they skulk
around there where interesting shit can be seen: i.e. at
bed-level…
That’s how Marty started borrowing anyhow: he’d realized it
exemplified genius. And when you’re cockblocked by this
feminizing empathy, by this paralyzing nasal spray – that’s
almost as lame as demanding the ten dollars (and the girl) back,
a week before due date.
Can gushing sex parts answer the biggest questions about frugality?
Marty needs to start stealing corduroy like this
from pretty legs and stay away from Australian guys
taking advantage of nerdy locals.
His kindness balances on a ball, serves drinks, but meanwhile
the bordello is in poor shape: let’s
spruce it up, people! Overachieving Australian guys
buying ‘buy your own riot’ holiday packages
don’t appreciate the riots they buy, Marty. Like,
they don’t even totally use them.
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