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Destiny. Ma warned me about chicks like her, and although she didn't specifically mention ferret-fanciers, I think it applies. Anyway, I say no one should feel the need to dance The Twist to Mozart, dammit, the Watusi, maybe, or the Charleston... Then there's always the Catfish. Also she farted, inappropriately, often, loudly, stinkily. Blonde, double-jointed. Wet one in a restaurant; bugle call at Gramma's funeral. Nobody laughed but little boys and Destiny. Gramma didn't laugh, I'll tell you that. Cross-eyed too, limped a little. Clubfoot. Nervous tic. Called her 'Lucky'. She didn't like it. Now we're apart; soon we'll be together. It's Fate.
Date Written: March 12, 2006
Author: Master Bates
Average Vote: 2