Sunday, March 4, 2007

Battle Royale

This, my friends, is an artist's rendering of Mr. DeWinter's ultimate woman. Four arms to hold him, a belgian beer in each of her many hands... toenails good for scratchin' his back.

He met her in the Ukraine the summer of '89 and he's never forgotten her since. Her sweaty breath, her stringy hair, her elephantine limbs. She was a vision in rough-weave undyed sack-cloth. At night, when the hour is late and he is alone in his bed he dreams not of sugarplums, but the sight of four hairy armpits flying towards him as she reaches out for an embrace. Lips curled with anticipation, eyes blinking back the rivulets of sweat her bushy eyebrows couldn't hold back. Gerzerka, Gerzerka, won't you be mine.


winter said...

She's just like you, only prettier! YAY!

Jenn Addenda said...

See, now I thought she looked a whole lot more like your mother.

winter said...

Oooh, a "your mom" slam. Take that, Winter - you're so totally glue!

Wow, you suck.