“Chicken wings” Amy said and grinned her lips, “are rather useless, though as you’ll see slightly delay the inevitable.” Harlow winced as Amy reached her face with butter skin. “Better than sex,” Amy said, “just you wait.” She reached into the cage as autumn vapors blew gooseypimples down the spine.
        “Gooseypimples, I can see,” Harlow said.
        “Gooseypimples I can feel,” Amy answered. The girls giggled.
        “I’m ready for this Amy,” Harlow said. Amy tossed. It was the best moment of my life.
        It fell through the air flapping as though life were in the balance. Harlow and Amy passionately embraced. Inaudible thud.
        “Who’s next?” Harlow asked. Amy drew out another by the leg.
        “Chicken wings are rather useless,” Amy said, “not meant for flying.” Chicken screams faded into quiet with each descending floor.
        “Meant for frying,” I interjected, “perhaps with a little bleu cheese sauce.”
        “Pickles and Barley do not approve, Stephen,” Harlow answered with a gorgon stare. “They’ll castrate you for another comment like that.”
        “What do you say?” Amy teased Harlow, “Shall we let him have a go?” Amy drew my hand onto her breast. “Your turn,” she said.
        “Too much of a pussy?” Harlow asked. I reached into the cage and grabbed it, tears filling my eyes. I wanted to say so much beauty, so much goodness.


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