I'm busy gnawing on cigarettes and chewing aspirins raw.

[Writer]

I love the bitter taste. But then again, I'd prefer sex. Incredible sex with a man about 15 years my senior. It sure would hit the spot. But the cigarettes and aspirins will have to do. The tar and analgesic swirling in my stomach, making me drowsy, stamping down that desirous need for man-flesh.

But what's that pounding? My heart. I think it's sprung a leak, palpatating and causing me to choke somewhat. I grab the newspaper and toss it to the ground, my back falling into the couch. The damned thing has no springs, so I sink deeply until I feel wooden support beams. So fucking uncomfortable. But then again, I'll do anything to rid myself of this horrible sensation that I am both everywhere and nowhere. A leaf blowing in the wind. A seagull who has lost her way in the storm.

THE END

Thanks for taking the time to read tonight's installment of Wicked Bad Writing.

[trof]

1. Ahem...I'm just guessing...but I'll bet I'm AT LEAST 15 years your senior.

But I'll have to check with miz t.
I am not optimistic about her reply.
;-)

[Sugar Smack]

2. I loved it!!!!!

:applause: :applause: :applause: