This drive-thru stank of loser’s gas but fate was bringing lots of cash. An edit and some seeing through would bring much gold for her and you. She could not stop or hold the brakes—this girl to always raise the stakes—she’d need a queen to hold her down and make it all a bit more sound.
“I’ll have those tits!” The girl would shout, “And maybe just—some lips that pout.”
“Whatcha want?” She’d ask her queen and while staring off where space had been. She heard a bubble just go pop; all in her head had met the chop. That one—her liege—would take that time to chose it over with her mind. The girl would be there standing tall while queeny emptied out the mall—she’d bake that cake and eat it too—she’d make it happen for her boo.
