Showing posts with label Mag 162. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mag 162. Show all posts

Monday, April 1, 2013

Mag 162 — what she was made for



So she may have given him an apple to taste. Get over it, all of you. He'd have found a way 
to fall on his own anyway. 
She does not keep a tidy house, but she grooms both pussies there so that should do. What the hell? She wasn't made to be a dutiful maid. 
She prefers windows without shades because she has an open mind. He should appreciate that instead of asking her to report to him what the weather looks like outside. She will happily stay up inside her open mind, thank you very much, and do you think she is 
some fucking weather predictor or something? 
Good heavens, he has been hell to live with since his physical, something about his ribs. 
Oh, good god, no....not braised ribs! You think she was created for creative cooking? 

She has been giving much thought to what exactly it is that she was created for. 
She no longer trusts the snake for advice
but she's thinking that the armadillo-mouse hiding on the counter 
by the coffee grinder just might know. She'll even let him have the run of the place 
if he will tell her which way to go to get out of this hellhole, 
and if he gets it right he will be the apple of her eye.  


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Written for The Mag: Mag 162 that inspired with the above photo prompt
(image: Between Heaven and Hell, 1989, by Jacek Yerka).

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