... but she stopped briefly to retrieve the Grecian Urn.
It seems she never found the "facilities" to relieve her bladder, so she used the closest container.
Her urge satisfied, she bonked the boxer on the head with the urn once again for good measure, poured out its contents on him, than continued out the door, where she was almost run over by that motorcycle cop who earlier had caused her to have visions.
He smiled at her, motioned her over to his motorcycle, and said, "Stalking, Muffy?"
Muffy, confused (isn't she always?), wondered why the nice motorcycle cop would try to sell her footwear.
"This just keeps getting weirder and weirder", thought Muffy, as she watched the motorcycle cop ride away.
"Now, why does that guy keep showing up for just a few paragraphs every now and then?", wondered Muffy.
Undaunted (Muffy was *not* the type to be daunted), she turned to the right and started walking up the street.
"A bit dangerous for you to be out here at night, Missy", said a gruff voice. "My name's not Missy!", said Muffy, as she peered into the darkness to see who uttered such a silly statement.
She gasped, as she realized the man was wearing a uniform. Maybe an airline pilot. Or, a sailor. An admiral, perhaps? |
