a rotten egg smell is floating over the "all on a donut" saga like a mindless fart in a skyscraper elevator. i'm ending it, putting in to bed with a bang.
the moral of the one-night saga is: never give a crazy russian lady, who is probably a stripper, a ride home at 3 a.m. all the way out in green tree, when nate-dawg's car has a donut instead of a real tire, and you're trying to be a wing man; unless, you are ready for disappoint and the loss of an organ.
you can fill in the details. you're imagination, hopefully, is still good.
No comments:
Post a Comment