Ish- this is penni-- Rambi's asleep and she left the door open.
Ohhhh, and just what, pray tell, am I supposed to do here? Never knowing whether the day's preference will be for a basically chivalrous if admittedly penurious love vassal or a rotgut-swilling, snaggletoothed, foul smelling, pustule-faced prospector? Shall I approach each day, wondering whether there will be the look of recognition and insouciant acceptance, or instead the contemptuous dismissal of a loinclothed Amazon whose eyes are only for either that hideous stenchmonger or a poet who has, I should point out, been dead as a doorknocker for well nigh two centuries?
Excuse me, but this wasn't in the job description. I'm calling the union. |
