My love, Echinoia Eeeps, will be entering a tasting contest next week. She wants to practice on me, though I need to be breaded and deep fried first. So far I'm just thinking about it.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, wants to use me for target practice — to make sure she knows how to shoot before wasting any of those expensive paper targets. I'm thinking it over.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, has a distant relative, Geeps. He's one of her brothers but never lets anyone get closer than 150 yards. Communicates only by leaving notes hidden under small stones. Usually one word per note, one note per stone, and one stone per acre. Conversation becomes thoughtful. It once took us a month to say "hello" to each other. He also wears a bag over his head and navigates by smell using a special GPS device that he invented himself. A pretty nice guy all around. Clever too, as you might suspect.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, is going to night school. She wants to become a Martian. Some of her relatives already are, though the schools around here don't have decent classes for that, so she's shooting for a trucking license.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, re-gifted me a box of bugs for my birthday. I can tell they're used because they smell funny, besides being partially masticated.
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Me? Have not yet reconsidered. (Though perhaps I should...)
