red pills behind the sofa cushions (procatalepsis, 3)
I know I said he wasn’t my monkey, but for a presumptuous interloper, he’s not only been keeping the bathroom clean and pitching in on the rent, but he sure does the whole cuddle thing well.
In fact, with those teeth and that build, having him spoon you is lot like being comforted by a hairy British midget, albeit with the hand strength of a Swedish massage therapist. And with nary a mention of Manchester United, or any of that incessant gossip about Prince Harry, Elton John, and a few ill-timed ketamine cocktails.
— At least, that’s what I imagine it’s like.
Hairy British midgets are at a premium around these parts, truth be told, and I’m not a particularly wealthy man…