All the pony club girls hated her. This morning she’d found her underwear dangling from a tree. It was so clear to the world that they were hers because of a) the tell-tale rusty streak and b) they were cotton briefs. Everyone else wore bikinis. Sure, they wore fancy panties, but no one else had reached womanhood yet. That honor was reserved for her alone. She reached for the Pom Poms in her pocket, but then thought better of it. There must be some other way to soothe her battered ego.
Perhaps she would let Fender, the retarded farm hand, dry hump her.
Date Written: February 2, 2004 Author:Jimson S. Sorghum Average Vote: 3.8333
Comments:
02/10/2004anonymous (5):
02/10/2004qualcomm (3): Poms Poms...pony club...Fender...I liked the detail but my inner feldy didn't laugh.
02/10/2004Will Disney (4): i dunno, i think it's pretty good. plus fender is kinda like feldspar.
02/10/2004anonymous: No more anonymous comments or votes.
02/10/2004Dylan Danko (4): So she wasn't allowing him to hump her before?
02/10/2004Will Disney: anon_user_a, is this some kind of a feature request? Please try posting something on our message boards.
02/10/2004Mr. Pony (3): I wish I had an inner feldy. Anyway, this short perfectly captures the anxiety of youth. Sort of. A little.
02/10/2004Dylan Danko: No you don't Pony. It's ebony black.
02/11/2004Jimson S. Sorghum: What I want to know is, did your 'inner feldy' cry?
02/11/2004qualcomm: my inner feldy savored the cheap, heartburned memories of malty pom pom goodness