My love, Echinoia Eeeps, is going into the business of manufacturing charcoal briquettes. So she figures that with everyone cutting back on carbon, there will be more for her. She wants me to be her taster.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, is quite the gal. I love her. Really. Really, really love her. If I don't say that at least once a day, she punches my lights out, so I do. Say it. Love that gal.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, sent me a registered letter informing me about the family annual animal-free reunion. Since I'm not certified as being entirely without personal parasites, they normally would not admit me, but I will still get in, as a specimen of what sort of person should be avoided, so I'm happy.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, made an appointment to have me inspected for parasites, next Thursday. Most of the sample examples escaped from the family zoo, and they need some new ones for a starter kit — said they're hoping I'll come through for them this time.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, has been quiet lately, but like Old Faithful, she erupts on a more or less regular schedule, and then I get scalded pretty good. Whatever would I do without her? I get a free steam cleaning at least once a month. Maybe that's what keeps my parasite load under control. Could be.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, says she's taking up skeet shooting, so I have to change my name to Skeeter if I know what's good for me. What an interesting set of choices I have now.
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Me? Where do I start? Take yesterday. No — please take it — I can't handle it any more.
