What the pustulated pox-marks on the drippy foreskin of a one-armed ogre piano player trying ta make a little chump change in the middle oftown square would ya make of the last few months I’ve had?
I don’t think she luvs me anymore!
Maxine Mansfield that is.
I’m sooooooo alone.
What’s she been spending her time doing instead of paying attention to me? Well, that’s a good question. She’s been write…write…writing male on male…umm…stories.
And before ya ask, sigh, nope, I’m not even in it. I’m not even mentioned, can ya believe that? And, ta make matters worse, The Wild Rose Press gave her a stupid contract for it, so now I’ll never get her undivided attention again.
If I wasn’t immortal, I swear I’d go lay out in the snow until even my willy froze solid and fell off. Though with as impressive as my love muscle is, that might take quite awhile.
I guess I shouldn’t complain too much. At least she’s still doing the edits-that-never-end on my, I mean Uthiel and Briar’s story,Touched by the Magic.
But,damn’t, I want some ME time, I deserve it. Especially after all I’ve done for her.
Maybe I can get her attention back with a game. Perhaps a round or two of Hide-the-Sausage? Or…hehehe…Ride-um-Cowboy?
Sigh,the sacrifices a gnome makes for stardom! But, desperate times callfor desperate measures, and as we all know, once ya go gnome, you’ll never again roam.