it's impossible to move. the exhaustion in the air is overwhelming. or maybe it's the sickness. i heard about sickness. and i heard it's in here.
plus general malaise. the languor. the unmedicated depression. and i'm not just talking about our mice, which are surely tired of eating from moldy dishes.
i think, though, the stench is surely from the lack of feminine queefing that usually overpowers the place, providing a flowery aroma that reminds me of petunias. i miss this queef and would like the queef back.
queen, come home soon. it stinks without you.
1 comment:
Juxtaposition is a beautiful thing. I am sitting in a conference room, in Benin, with the entire Board of Directors of our integrated rural African development problems reading about how the lack of my supposed queefs (which I imagine is pluralized to queeves) renders life not worth living. Priceless.
In honor of our microloan program in Benin, I will now take out a micro credit and my income generating activity will be to market "Eau de Queef"
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