OlBourbonShark wrote:Please consider for publication...I feel it brings a tender, more "human" side to the game.
OlBourbonShark and PistolShrimp: A Love Story
The PistolShrimp was weary from his work making maps. I knew how much he admired my lithe and supple limbs, so I danced for him, body glistening by the fire. He called me to his side and we engorged ourselves on the finest of sauteed crickets. He removed his colonial slacks and I looked at his member, as small and flimsy as a discarded shell of the crustacean in his name. "Back to the salt mines!", I thought to myself as our bodies heaved beneath our lean-to.
Thankee,
Olbs
When I was in England I couldn't stand people like you. Not a day of hard labour in all your 18 years. Just a life of luxury at home with your tutors learning Greek and Roman and the type by hand. I'd see you when you'd come down to the docks with your daddy; "to learn how to do business with us common folk." You'd hold your nose at the smell of the fish and the wharf boys would laugh at your discomfort. Hell, I'd laugh. I thought I hated you.
After I came to the new world I often found myself imagining what it'd be like for you here. No tutors, no fancy clothes, just man's county where its just you and death lurks just outside of whatever it is you can't handle. You wouldn't last a week in the lumberwoods. And at the time that thought pleased me.
However, when I was in Providence selling rattler skins and saw you step off the boat, eyes wide in horror of it all, I almost felt sorry for you. Of course at the time I told myself I'd take you under my wing just so as to watch how bad you would fail. Maybe I'd take you to the middle of nowhere and leave you, or trap you in a pen and give you to the chief. However as the days passed I felt my heart soften. So helpless. So in need of a real man. Watching your smooth, supple arms strain under even the simplest of chores, fetching water from the lake for our mushroom pots that night, harkened feelings in me I dared not name.
I would like to say, olburbonshark thats it's not the size of a man's new world gourd that counts it is its purity and how many inspiration points you have left, and that night, my friend, we had plenty.