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I suppose that shocks one’s ideas. Rhea’s head exploded into a spray of blood, brain, and bone. She did not know herself. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. To her consternation, the sound drew her great-aunt’s attention and she threw out a hand. She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town. To her horror she realized that she had nearly forgotten how to kiss after a years-long dry spell, and she could detect drool on her own chin and John’s cheek. The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another.
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This video was uploaded to fairlopwaters.info on 04-06-2024 18:53:21
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