Susan and Sally went to the seashore to a very popular seafood restaurant. Being fully paid up members in the ladies who lunch bunch of society, they settled in with cocktails for a nice long one.
Susan’s gaze locked with the stranger’s across the crowded restaurant, and she was suddenly overwhelmed by a powerful emotion. She did not know why the vision of this well appointed flâneur had stirred such deep body quivers and quakes within her. She felt a very strong compunction to go down to the beach and sell seashells at highly inflated prices to fulfill this strangers deepest need.
She had hoped he had designs on her. But truly, he only cared for himself. No more long lingering lunches for her. She was now a slave to the growing seashell economic bubble.
More shells. More better, was the watchword of the era. Even her one time friend Sally could not save her from herself or her shellfish desires.
well past midsomer hope against hope our wanton wanderings recur
Child's happy place Cotton candy frolic feast Full of pinks and blues
Akin to adults Ether frolics but with sweets Not so different
Tails from Florida Of long lived porpoises And chatty Mynah birds He was lost Until he found His special purpose Was transporting Mynahs Across state lines For immortal porpoises So he went into politics
7/21/2024
Sand in the gears gumming up the works all part of a Russian nesting doll scam to keep us at each other's throats
Russian nesting doll scams throwing sand in the works to foist oligarch rule
glad I tuned out of a week of blowing smoke and pounding sand up our...
