It was as when some great gentle dog brings in a limp and bedraggled prize dug from the yard and, laying it at one’s feet, looks up at one with soft asking eyes.
A throbbing bulge strained between his legs, mocking any attempt he made to focus either his eyes or his mind on his work. Shit! Maybe Zeke was right. After three years of playing Willy Wanker Solitaire, he was so fuckstrated[.]
I imagine the Dreamward’s food being even more varied and punctiliously prepared, the ship’s Gift Shop less expensive and its casino less depressing and its stage entertainment less cheesy and its pillow mints bigger.
Or they may be eager to enter the Anthropod Zoo, where an enormous praying mantis stands at the entrance.
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