Don't even try

I don't expect you to follow the train of logic off a bridge or off a cliff to the market where I expect you'll find the man you want to be . . . who you'll spend your entire life as. The filthy mudbloods echoed softly to themselves as they leapt from building to building with such ease that it would have made superman look like a small squid that found himself served on a dish. Which is in no way relevant to the argument over all, whereas an octopus might hold some bearing or weight on the conversation as a whole. Don't get me wrong, I'm of the opinion that the candy cane path leads to the chocolate sunrise and circumstances notwithstanding may actually be a wielder of truth, justice, and the American way. But why the American way?

I found myself lying next to the American dream once. She left a bad taste in my mouth when I kissed her sun stained lips. Her sin was bleached like the whitest piece of lined parchment. She had a smoker's lung in her left hand and a cigarette in her right. She led men to their demise by simply offering them their hearts worst imaginable fantasy. For a man, you see, dreams of such fierce things that even the least wicked of these would cause a schoolgirl's eyes to blush.

The red was more vibrant than anything I'd ever seen!

So let's hypothesize or theorize, if you will, that when the Sun sets the Moon takes it's place like a skeletal monster hanging ominously in the night sky taunting the wolves and the coyotes with promises of sexual gratification. I need to be in bed. It must be the lunar cycle.

I burst forth from my clothes as the lychanthropy took control. I slashed and tore at the sheets as the vampires descended. They had no right to the Blood God . . . He was mine!

Thank you.

-Scritch out