04-19-2015, 06:44 AM
the woman's name eludes me now, so for the purposes of this memoir we will call her 'Ilene.' in the coming years, Ilene deftly shuffled her amorphous muffin tops to pole position in my mum's list of best friends, more due to the fact that the foul mouthed busybody just wouldn't go away, than that she was her normative choice in companions. she had a son, name Lee, and, just as much as his mother was queen of all things spandex, he was the devil incarnate. never have I known a child so capable of stretching the elastane so far over his parent's eyes, but 'lycra' Ilene saw only glorious sunbeams emanating from the spiteful little brat's pitchforked derriere. so much so, that if he were to blatantly punch her square in the face right before your very eyes, she would swear blind to you that he hadn't, then proceed to tell you fervent tales of his excellence or well behaved exploits.
Last edited by Menelaus; 04-25-2015 at 01:10 PM..
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