[also in this form: fictionfor7818]
tag[s]: bathroom fiction poetry , …
In the bathroom; there is this crud not spilling out of your ass;
It’s a bit freaky to discuss; and she’s a non fathoming non useful variety of freak;
Those dogs they are a different than us species; and so it is that may;
That cannot be a dog or any other different from us species.
At night; the dog is has turned to a knight; and works as a police doggie; or a police officer; or a doggie security officer;
We need to tuck near the dog’s limbs to keep them safe; him Safe.
As we cannot weed to take the dog were every;
And we need to coax the tails of furrowing mass on the stand-tall; and that mass; of course is al no
Nail polish and means fur; it’s true that then at least even Clare
Nail polish; burns un
When the dog dies; he wall just turn to a police officer and mostly already trained and ready to go; has been going; and this is a good dream: to keep the dog safe; too,
You wouldn’t understand that , you think police officers get shot in the Bee of Non-Duty; that’s just the fake cops;
Tis it hardly a payer.
Tease it stands the hallowing hare on the ends; in this species it doesn’t hurt; and this is one version of hygiene.
To get Wheels, The missing dots; ha, ha cited: gandhi
She won’t leave me alone! She rolls into the bathroom; and her hands are parched on her elbows; she’s depriving all of has of liquid; and at the end: she purposes this unholy odor; i.e. not because of
; hence unholy,
Illness or such; just to be sick; to make you.
Can you imagine starting like that.
All the dogs pant?
|| Dog, Doggie, Dogs, Doggies Dog ||