Quinceanera The Last (Part/Slice of tofu-nougat pie)

[alvin_stomack]

Overtaken by an unspoken force, I fell to my knees, clawing the cement of the amphitheatre stage with my neatly-clipped fignernails as my transformation began. The moon cast her light upon my smiling philosopher face, and I presently felt my supple skin  transform into yellow scales and the spontaneous plethora of blood in my swollen veins turn

Comments

[anonymous]

It's like falling in love and then discovering your lover is a human; wretchedly imperfect and completely inadequate. But fruitation of love blooms in the everlasting (approximately 75 years) flower of a budding third human. And one pretends to know but doesn't. Beating her cerebrum in frustation, she exists.
Also, it is always good to give previsouly estranged, recently reunited offspring chocolate in condolence for dead time.
Love,
possepunk

[alvin_stomack]

I owe you many thanks, noble friend and vampire-dentist. Although the events that transpired in this latest journal entry happened nearly a year ago, and I have since had little success in reconciling the estrangement between myself and the purple-raincoated daughter I never knew I had, I have taken the advice of your Hades-deep wisdom and carved a life-sized chocolate mailman for my little Ejecta, which I will present to her tonight for
smile-f(l)avor. Hoopity hoop!