The Double Pleaser Will Abode In No Child

It was after he glued the jack hammer to my prized, one-of-a-kind telecaster made from thousands of pressed chrysanthemums that I began to think that he had an appendage for feelings that was no more than egg-shell thick. But it was really the constant intermixing of his eyes on my sister's behind, accompanied by the comment, "Shaping shaping shaping shaping shaping moving, darling!" that really made my bitterness overpower my unbitterness. His perimeter of nervous working clothes and his miserable pet armored turkey, Sturge, didn't help matters either. Eventually, I coaxed myself to pick up another silver electric pencil and for a boiling second just sat there, but then took a deep breath and plunged it into his severe milky center, as planned.