No. She picks them out herself. He does watch. He sits in a corner and envy’s all the men that fuck her. But she don’t care. Mr. Woody can’t even get off without being in excruciating pain. Mr. Woody is more like Mr. Softy. No not the ice cream truck!

Filled with dark humor and gritty horror. You write this style with imagination and a flair for the dark arts of poetry.

John

The fucking irony my friend. Cleverly penned, Keith. Appreciate you.

Damian