Sometimes I write tiny stories.
Here’s my latest:
“Darling, roll over,” Melania said softly to the giant orb of flesh topped with a pop of silky wheat floss on his head lightly emerging from his slumber next to her in their fur-covered, diamond-encrusted, Tsar-sized, Tempur-pedic bed.
“But I don’ wanna…,” the grown man slobbered, rolling anyway, as if to get away from a mother trying to wake a child to get ready for school.
Melania sighed as she pulled the heavy blankets away to look at the exposed ass cheeks of her beloved.
“Look at dees badonka-donk,” she muttered to herself.
“At least dees makes my job easy,” she added turning away to pull the syringe from the bottle labelled “Big Mean Baby Man Potion”.
Turning back to his buttocks, she sank the needle deep into his flesh and pressed the plunger all the way down.
The mountain barely flinched before emitting a thunderous gastronomical explosion.
Melania put the syringe back on the nightstand, sat up and looked at the sun trying to peek past the blinds.
“Same sheeet, deeferent day,” she sighed.