Whale, whale, whale, now that's what I call a fluke.
She's looking at you. Yes you. And she is judging you with her eyes. There is no escape.
Twilight floated a second fritter up to her mouth when she realized the first was gone. “What is in these things?” “Mostly love. Love ‘n about three sticks of butter.”
I write lots and lots of horse words; everything from comedy to drama. If you like what I write, please support me on Patreon.