brighteyes

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My stories

Day 04

Zoom And in other news this week, Bray Fairfax, star of such blockbusters as "Hit Parade and "She's Got My Foot has once again been courting a slap from religious purists with her controversial and oft vocalised views on certain anti-aging remedies. During a charity gala for the World Blemish Fund last night, which she was compering, Fairfax remarked in her introductory speech that "God would want us to look good, right? He gave us these bodies to take care of, and I'm gonna take care of mine however the hell I see fit. She went on to quote the famous story "Footprints, in which a man questions the whereabouts of his Lord when the two sets of footprints he has seen behind him become just one. Fairfax cited the work done by 'co-pilots' working for Peaches and Cream treatment providers as being similar to that of the Lord figure, carrying the believer in times of trouble. It is worth noting at this point a red wine stain on the white halter dress sported by Ms F, who was escorted off stage shortly after making the statement.
Cherry

Day 03

1771.1 Longwave You've just been listening to Sell Shendrick and the Rubles with "What's My Name? (You Ate My Brain)". Classic slice of note-perfect nourishment for your ears. Well that seems to be all for tonight, folks. Thank you for tuning in, and for God's sake, get some sleep or some drugs. Here to play us out are The Carpettes with "Wrap Me In Paper". Stay slutty. It keeps the population rocketing.
Cherry

Day 02

Miffy I have ten fingers and ten toes, all of which were arrested at the age of eight and ordered to freeze. My limbs still bear a gnat's purse of baby fat apiece and my running is a toddle at best. My belly is firm and round like an oversized brioche loaf, my belly button a white choc chip nestling below a flatland. My chest would be the first thing below sea level if this second Ice Age would ever make up its mind about whether it's on its way or not.

Day 01

Andaw Gilligan's PA comes round today with my death certificate. Well it may as well be. The crested sheet is in fact a new contract. At the third ERRRN of the intercom, I kick aside several curry boxes and their respective ecosystems and squint through the spyhole at a wall of breast wrapped in a floral pussybow blouse, a dollop of melba lipstick and several thick gold necklaces warping and bending in the glass like giddy snakes.
Cherry

Don't Stop

Don't stop being exasperated by stubborn computers, cupboard shortages, forgtten errands. When your cheeks rise scarlet from the bone it looks like passion. Don't stop questioning my social white lies, that left unchecked

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