Runaway Royalty

Supplies are in need of me as I am in need of supplication, five and a quarter blocks gear Quasimoto to an infamous eccentricity known as Gabriel's Gadgets. Every wall is human curiosity, the storekeeper is a madman such as myself; I understand his misery. His hug is a child sprinting fairy wilderness; he tells me I feel like a broken angel.

Zoomy needs a pair of jeans to anger people, I know a place nine and three eighths a square of wide angle corners to counter clockwise, Nubian Night. Purple tie dye blue funk white crease orange embroidery back pocket urban denim is chosen by the owner; she is imperative of proper direction and we admire her zealous creed. Her hug is a winter grin; she tells me I feel like a sad snowflake.

Must of tore my britches on the half pipe made out of PVC desecration. Amy's Anticipation is a black curtain mistress wearing Mad Town's notorious coffee shop vintage circle. She whole heartedly recommends boxers with an elastic waistband, measures the private pocket, packs peter pan inside of a labeled empty soy milk bottle; my undergarments are nobody's business, this store is a secret.

Diesel stays with us whenever we freak out; tonight he brings a pillowcase fluff.

"What the hell is that?"

"He's my roommate."

"What are we?"

"People I live with."

"Let me see him."

"I named him Andain."

"I don't know about this."

"He's calico black and grey."

"He's beautiful."

"Where you going?"

"I'm moving out."

Dominia is a dog, I do not give a shit what anybody tells me; she is a gorgeous elongated Egyptian canine with whiskers and spear ears. My mind is warping underneath a moon named Adolphus, there is a black suit inside a chestnut case; we are exploring forbidden wealth. Trees guard our nature while we watch several women escorted along a gravel road to a bizarre wood plated white house; the dog does not like this. We make our presence known; they run to our willow fortress for protection.

"What are you?"

"Meow."

"Are you married?"

"Meow."

"Which one of you said that?"

She sleeps as I carry her on my back running thickness of morose intention. My sickness is a fuming scratch from a feline hidden inside a dreaming cloth; I should not of hissed at him. Streaks of midsummer blue electrifies sorrowful coronas, the sun's mischief keeps me deep inside a panther's den, snakes visit me staring into my eyes.

"Zoomy is going to be mad at me. He likes cats a lot. He doesn't like dogs so much. Diesel is going to get it for this."

Cobras are sadistically adorable, aquatically inclined, and migrate wherever there are cats.

"Your eyes....."

"Are you purring?"

"That is not a fucking dog."

"The scratch on your back is glowing purple."

"Do you like catnip?"

"I will remember you."

"I got to tell her about this."

"I heard there was a she wolf on the other side; you know her?"

"Fucking ugly god damn fucking bloody fuck shit. I hate those fucking horny cows. Here is a black sheath of Buffalo ass. You want to know how I got it? I'll tell you anyways. You see I was riding my super ninja fuck on an asphalt highway and three of those god damn pieces of stinky shits walked right in front of me so I grabbed the biggest ugly fucker by the points."

"Then what?"

"He sat on me."

"Is that how you got his ass?"

"Not exactly."

"What happened to the bike?"

"A little one of those ugly stinky fuckers drove it away!"

"How did you get the leather?"

"I can still smell those bloody god damn motherfuckers."

"Okay so then what happened?"

"A police officer came and helped get stinky off me."

"How?"

"He shot him."

"Damn!"

"I got the bike back; that cop was scared. He shot all of them."

"......"

"I don't like it either. Local people came to check out the noise and blue boy took off running. They skinned those cows and ate their guts."

"I don't ever want to go there."

"They were listening to some fucking song about Jesus some guy sang about."

"What was the name?"

"Something about money."

"Jesus and money....."

"Did he really ride a donkey?"

"Nobody going to jack that ass."

Avie is wearing Rolf's Versace t-shirt boasting a gold encrusted Medusa; sparkles trace her gusts of tapping trails while I watch inside the darkness of a shadow ottoman. The scratch reminisces me burning skin overlapping a crimson pulsating drum; my appearance is a strange mirror shrieking transformation only bats know. Her hands touch a heavy dead thing, she flinches vegan, the sheath falls over unrolling a black liquid body; I can see her from thirty-seven thousand feet adjacent to Japanese steam swimming air.

"I wonder if Cordelia knows about this."

"Why the hell is there a cat suit in your god damn drawer?"

"It's kinky."

"There's a utility garter on each leg, ear canals, and......"

"I wear it to parties."

"You don't go to parties unless....."

"I can explain."

"No you can't."

"Are you upset?"

"What the fuck!"

"You curse like a sailor."

"I was born inside a bottled ship which makes no fucking sense at all!"

"That was the best I could come up with."

"I will get you for this."

Andain expresses his majesty of lounge sofa and eats my tuna. His tail unearths my essence as instinct slides my tongue in between fangs; the sound is seven forked mysteries. He is deeply offended, carries one bag with his mouth I assume to bury the hatchet, Lizzie Borden lives to swap my heart five smites.