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Viewing Single Post From: What Are Little Girls Made Of?
Ruggahissy
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Prince
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Ethan slid two marshmallows onto his stick and held it out to the fire.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t have to tip shit as long as we don’t plan on coming back.”

The sugar began to burn and turn the puffy balls slightly brown.

“You know, if you count me tending to your wounds and spooning in a dirty mine shaft, this might actually be our third date. Then again, if we do count that, that means Duncan and I are on our way to a fancy meal too. Wherever he is…”

He sat with his left hand supporting his head while his right lazily turned the stick.

“No one wants just a salad besides dirty hippies. In the interest of speeding things up I’ll skip the parts where I tell you that your eyes are my favorite part about you and that I liked The Notebook and you have a beautiful soul or whatever bullshit girls like to hear so guys can get in their pants.”

Ethan turned his head and looked at Feo as she warmed up her marshmallow. The golds and reds lit up her up in a sort of glow. Past her the firelight melted into the shadows.

“Saxaphone?” he said, genuinely impressed. “That’s…..actually really cool. But-“

He stopped himself. He was about to say “but I don’t think you’ll be playing again anytime soon.” Ethan had just enough tact to know not to remind the sax player that she was SOL on that job without the correct number of fingers.

“….but well, when I’m not running around avoiding getting blown up and carved up I fix stuff. I fix cars, I fix computers, I build stuff. I got accepted to the University of Michigan. For the electrical engineering program. So, my bomb skills are actually….well…bomb.”

It was a horrible pun, but he couldn’t help himself. He smirked at his own joke and pulled his marshmallows out of the fire.

Careful. Don’t like her. You can nail her but don’t like her. You’re screwed if you do. She’s gotta die. They all do. No other way out. If this bitch tries to play you, you've gotta know you can gut her like that kid on the video. No mercy.

“All we need now is for that fucker to come over the P.A. with some violin. He’s probably busy whacking off to road kill right now or something, so we’re just gonna have to provide our own ambiance.”

He blew on the end of the sweet and took a bite.
Edited by Ruggahissy, Nov 3 2010, 02:41 PM.
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What Are Little Girls Made Of? · The Mountain