moi? Im flattered. -- Death Valley

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Date Posted: 14:02:20 06/07/03 Sat
Author: Roxy
Subject: moi? Im flattered.
In reply to: Roxy 's message, ".boredom post, but long and mayhaps interesting--give it a click." on 00:30:46 06/01/03 Sun

The brazen waif, perching precariously beneath interwoven columns of perpetual sunlight and various verdancies that formed something of frond baldachin watched the stallion with livid eyes. Her form, ruby coating gleaming in scintillation danced uneasily in a surreptitious fashion. The silence between them stretched perennially, like innumerous hummocks. Roxy flicked neurotic lobes hazardously; the silence was audible, but it needed to be punctured by some perturbation. Her self-appointed duty though, being brought up with such theme, was to abruptly picture this metaphorical balloon with her needle, sending a stream fingering through stygian tresses of delicious, delectable, facetious air, awaiting a verbal brawl to take place beneath the brackish grounds. She eyed him defiantly, coming down to a halt, readable in the more solitary verboseness of the equine lexicon. She longed for his dexterity, his animosity; his ability to keep that red light on, eye watchful over the droning cadre. She felt downcast, as she loathed the puppet strings manipulated her; as the blades of grass, attached to the ground by the very roots that give them sustenance. She longed for that overbearing power�the perception of immaculate clarity, the ability to scrutinize every thought and noise above the murmur of a heartbeat; unbiased and humble. Although his desire was not neutral; it was to know their attributes, and their flaws�and that is for what she longed. Crossing one nimble willow across the other, the female performed a soft falap; barely audible bolero on the hollow tap stage. She cocked an articulate head, orbs piercing with intricate scrutiny. If she had felt words were needed; they would have been uttered with a sardonic charisma.

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[> big brother is watching YOU -- Big Brother, 14:46:44 06/07/03 Sat [1]

The cynnical stallion stood, watching from his velvet-seated standpoint in the crowds. With an innately suave style, he smiles loftily. Despite the fact that he had no social status in the entire world as of yet, he still believed himself far superior to most others. Most. He cocked a hind foot, analogous to a tall, dark, handsome stranger leaning against the stage wall. A producer-type. With a malevolent snort, the stallion emerges from the shades. "Hello."

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