Jazzmin Flush (24)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (24)"
   
   "Scavenged whale carcass is a delicious delicacy."  Jazzmin Flush heard this within her cerebral capacity, pulsating, resonating, and sounding like Thomas mixed with a bit of "ruff ruff" growl in his telepathic vociferousness; indeed, in the Year 2019 Of Our Lord, Wikipedia listed that every canine possessed a form of unique telepathy.  So, of course!  For nobody else, especially not the Holy Family, would be hungrily informing her that whale carcass is a delicious delicacy.
   This bizarre communication from the young, wolfish man she loved, this awesome stretch of romantic, spiritual fiber formed quicksilver and competitive steel in herself--to push herself further within the unfamiliar, driving her towards the icy edges of Terra's wondrous Everland.  But, so many questions, and still--so much adoration to rain over her sweet Thomas when she unearthed that furballish friend.  Catholics and their spirit wolves--somebody should tell somebody.  

Jazzmin Flush (23)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (23)"
   
   Jazzmin Flush had not experienced and zany zombie activity as of yet; specifically, backpacking with a lime-green zombie blade loaned from the peach-rich virtue of Girthy Gilda might have heavily attracted such uncanny undeadism, yet there was nothing happening along those long lines for the venturing, California Blonde.  So, she bundled up in an Army-Tuff, green jacket, zipping it not timid but tight; next, walked her leather-crafted, oatmeal yellow boots into Alberta.  Still, it was a terrifically terrible trek, a couple local wolves along the way, and a pestering coyote that just wanted her to give it some flowery love; moreover, she still had quite a heavy haul upwards, to the Northwest Territories.  
   Thomas was smeared in glacial respect, having reverence for the unappreciated ice cube, lodged and locked in imperial-white tray pissed in by many college guys to further fuel the comedy of a girlfriend's father--him drinking the urine spike towards their personal hilarity and cruel elation; nonetheless, Thomas didn't give a rat's ass about sophomorish hijinks, now that he was the Arctic Wolf, in a very weird way, retaining all aspects of his humble humanity, not driven by the pack, living off small game, glaring the innocent, over-sexed hare right in the eye.  Hey, it was a living, and he knew--he knew:  Jazzmin Flush was on her way.  But, what of it?   

Scarlett--Joe Team, 80's Cartoon Beyond

   
"Scarlett--Joe Team, 80's Cartoon Beyond"
   
   Rank:  E-8 Master Sarge
   Primary Military Mojo:  Intelligence
   Qualified Expert:  Throwing Stars, KA-BAR . . .

The first real girl in Issue #1,
And hell--the Baroness was Dominatrix School Teacher, whipping for fun;
Thus, enlist in adventure if healthy and sure,
Better than me with a hot girl score;
Regardless, wending through puberty with Reagan at the helm,
Was a patriotically true, television realm.
  

  

-Blood and Chocolate- Review

    
   "-Blood and Chocolate- Review"
   
   During a gastrointestinal flare of pain, blood, and fecal-like mucus being cruelly evacuated, when I believed Tony Romo might win it all and wink deliciously at the lascivious ladies, I read "Blood and Chocolate" and was not rewarded with what I wanted.  I wanted, of course, a bit quirky mixed in, and heavily.  For what is a psychotically-driven tale of things macabre without a neurotic personality living within the dynamic danger?  Nevertheless, I liked it, minus the fact that my intestinal tract was giving way.
   Meat Boy.  Don't underestimate a Meat Boy, especially if he has a crazy compulsion to slay werewolves, like Jango Fett besting many Jedi.  And the epic classicism of the Young Adult horror/love story is amazingly alive.  The pull of the quintessential wolf, driving one to dreams of hunger and pack synergy.  It's in there.  Classically--in every form of the word.  So, if you're reading about werewolves under Full Moon or any neon brag of moonbeam; next, purchase this book.   Totally. 

Barney Miller: Werewolf (Xtranormal Promo 2)

   "Barney Miller Werewolf doohickey video"
   
   I can't find the entire comedic rant here 'bout Lycanthropy; still, it exists in time and space--I think so, kinda.  Dislodged myself from Twitter, terrible trolls hacking; alas, some trolls are quite exotic and corporeally pleasing, in grotesque yet sexxa manner.   So, here's a gregarious glimpse into the social aspects of a New York Group of Detectives around mojo mystical things and the Carter Administration time period:  

Jazzmin Flush (22)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (22)"
   
   "Canada is darn cold; still, the Chief did scatter there after flying over the Cuckoo's Nest."  Girthy Gilda lamented while sucking down the anti-oxidant properties of tobacco burned carcinogenic.  But Jazzmin Flush needed steel; specifically, Steel and Mercy.  Indeed, Thomas' body had succumbed in silly fashion to spontaneous combustion, and he didn't even drink cocktails and burn butts simultaneously; moreover, Jazzmin Flush knew he was high into the arctic, haven forgotten his untransfigured humanity, back when his Pap Pap used to get up at the whip crack of dawn every dandy day, just to see what Ginger Zee was wearing, always hoping for the ashtray look of a leather skirt; still, cherry lipstick stains on a butted out, green-colored, menthol filter look awfully sexxa in an ashtray.  Regardless, Jazzmin Flush was back-packing Canadaways.
   "Take a knife with ya, at least.  I got a zombie blade--lime-green from surgical steel in China's fine land, and people says if it be made in China it sucks.  Hogwash, they got one of the best space programs in this Global, Autonomous States of Federation."  Girthy Gilda wise, puffing always, closer to death, to freedom . . .
   "I'll be safe Girthy Gilda.  And I love you too Fredrica."  Jazzmin Flush embracing her two buds.
   Then, Girthy Gilda with one last zinger.  "Honey, don't sweat the hams and jams.  They all got coming:  A Rude Awakening."   
     

Jazzmin Flush (21)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (21)"
   
   Thomas ascended beyond the Tree Line--Northwards, truly; thus, armed with shorter ears and double insulation, surviving epicways, mythical--this new, benevolent beast of his eagerly examined the Arctic Beauty in glacial pond of frozen blue, shimmering him azure-hued, all around; next, a howl as the eyes squinting from ultra-chilly winds commanded an in-the-character scream, reminding the frigid atmosphere that there was NO Lion King here--only him, living off the Spirit's water, existing without the big game hunt, though the mercurial hop of a quick-footed rabbit might hit the belly spot.
   Jazzmin Flush's visitation, hovering love above, dirty-blonde cascading downwards upon Thomas' healing flesh, weirdly, rapidly, igniting another person almost--reborn from the carnivorous cruelty of it all--now:  paw pads on internal command, healing always, especially when under any Moon's magnificent might and luminous light.