OK, she told me the other day that they used to do something, I can’t remember what. Not because I didn’t care when she told me, simply one of those moments when I registered and appreciated everything she was saying, but rather than allowing, say, the first verse of Iron Maiden’s Number of the Beast to be erased in my memory bank, I let hers slide out the door.
Don’t let her know that I had a hard time remembering what important thing it was in life. You know how women are. Even if they are the fire of utmost desire and you’re a swooning moth around it, even if you remember most of it, as soon as you don’t remember one, they’ll gather you don’t truly appreciate them. So, hush about this, OK!?
Where the feck was I?
Oh, tea time. She mentioned tea time.
So you really are all a bunch of hobbits over in UK?
What the hell is tea time?
Is it siesta without a snore?
What, exactly, do you do at tea time, change into cricket white and sip with a pinky up towards the Lord's clouds, you Gatsby gang!?
Don’t let her know that I had a hard time remembering what important thing it was in life. You know how women are. Even if they are the fire of utmost desire and you’re a swooning moth around it, even if you remember most of it, as soon as you don’t remember one, they’ll gather you don’t truly appreciate them. So, hush about this, OK!?
Where the feck was I?
Oh, tea time. She mentioned tea time.
So you really are all a bunch of hobbits over in UK?
What the hell is tea time?
Is it siesta without a snore?
What, exactly, do you do at tea time, change into cricket white and sip with a pinky up towards the Lord's clouds, you Gatsby gang!?
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