||[Sep. 30th, 2006|05:34 pm]
|[||my toes feel...
|||||Danny kisses my feet||]|
|||||Ashley typing upon her keyboard||]|
He: You're funny.
He: Most women aren't.
Me: All the women I know are funny.
Me: Then again, I am probably lesbo-riffic.
I lounge in my basement of a chair and a bed. Curtains swallow books, and the SNES Supermario Theme Song wavers out of the pecariously perched television. The sega genesis, the PS2 and the atari were all siphoned upstairs for the community gaming pleasure. I have no qualms, as long as the SNES was within easily devourable distance. Danny Boy's mottled coat contrast against the purples and yellows that confine the mattress. His fur covers everything. I bought a lint brush for the specific reason for purifying my bedsheets. I go through a roll at least once every three days. He doesn't care about my efforts and continues to shed happily and profusely.
She: My, what a lovely dog.
She: What's the breed? Australian shepard?
Me: ...no, border collie. He has a tail.
She: Oh? Why she does!
She: He what?
Me: He's a he.
She: Oh! He's so effiminate!
Me: ...He's metrosexual.
She: Excuse me?
She: Uh well...
She: Well, good day!
I sat nestled between two bookshelves, a pile of books surrounding my feet. I was isolated in between the towering bohemouths who held literature in their bowels. Tapping toes and turning pages equated to a blissful afternoon. He stopped in front of me, surprised by the appearance of a human nestled in words. A grin tugged at his mouth, and I raised an eyebrow. He waved, and I blinked in return. Then abandoning his bag to the ground, he dropped in front of me, grabbed a book, and begin flipping pages. I hesitated, wondering if my gleeful solitude would be jarred by inquiring words. But a comfortable silence instead increased between, only fragmanted by rustling paper.
Me: [[tore off my shirt, flipped a strap, and ran into the basement once more.]]