Never, ever, drink and write. Or for heavens sake, text anyone.
What we think, what we utter, written while under the influence, may have a large amount of truth, but the manner of the delivery will most definitely lack the nessasary decorum.
Never, ever, except in manners of the heart, push that send button.
In manners of the heart all bets are off.
Dam the fucking torpedoes, let it all hang out.
Let her know how you feel.
Feel?
Men don’t feel, what the fuck are you talking about?
We bury that shit under decades of parental espionage.
Imagine a British man, nose in the air, saying “ chin up old man, better luck next time”
Oh hell, my buzz is fading.
Time for another shot.
About the Creator
Katie
Really just an amateur trying my hand at this.
How the Harvest Mouse Came to Suisun Bay
A long, long time ago there was a family of harvest mice. Mice are common, but these were unique – born to those who had lived in the salty, marshy bay for many generations, these mice ate and drank from the sea as well as the land and rivers. For generations, there were only the southern families, scattered along the marshes of Corte Madera and in the San Francisco Bay (U.S. Fish & Wildlife, 2013). One family, however, would undergo strife and conflict before reaching a whole new world. What became of them after is another tale entirely – but this is how their story begins.
By Taylor Inman6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Nice one✨🍀🤣👍