Well, that didn't work very well. Not that I really expected it to, but I'd have taken it anyway. It would have been a nice surprise, if it had worked.
All of the chickens are dead. I'm not really sure, exactly, what happened to them, but if I had to guess I'd say that they starved to death.
Who knew you had to feed even imaginary chickens?
This most recent incarnation of my mood, it's certainly my fault. I expected the impossible. I dared to have hope, of all things. You'd think I would have learned by now.
I had a dream last night, during one of my two-hour naps. I don't remember many of the details of the dream, and I don't even remember the exact words spoken, but I do remember the gist.
"What is it that you want with me?" she asked, her voice managing to convey both fear and hope.
"My wants vary widely," I answered. "But right now, I want to use my tongue on you, until you're nothing more than a quivering puddle sprawled atop your bed. I want to make your body vibrate with the anticipation of ecstasy, so that my most gentle kiss, the lightest graze of my fingers, even the softest sound of my whispered voice, sets you off all over again. I want to melt you."
"That sounds fun," she said. "Do that, please."