Jan. 16th, 2007

hells_half_acre: (l'interpide)

The toilet is broken.

Remember when life was about fast cars and beautiful women, getting drunk on a saturday night and staying that way until next tuesday. When we used to take off to foreign locations on a moments notice, sit on the beach, chat up the locals, overthrow the crime boss with enough time left over to paint the town red with the bastard sons of millionaires and concubines. Remember the time we stayed up all night crouched below the dock, waiting with daggers for the prince's yacht to come back to port, only to find out he had been drowned at sea...how we laughed as we tucked our disguises back into the bottom of our bags. Remember the time you had finally had enough of my constant teasing, and threw me down in the long grass, tearing off my clothes as I laughed at finally finding the limit of your resolve...

No, neither do I.

In the end, it always just comes back to broken toilets and trying to find things to do on the internet to keep myself entertained.

(posted based on Sherrie's love for this piece of writing)


hells_half_acre: (Default)

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