Fox Biddable (28)

   
   "Fox Biddable (28)"
   
Clovis Bloom was in a surreal state of mystic meditation,
Praying the Holy Rosary; specifically, reflecting upon the Sorrowful Mysteries--no hesitation,
Viewing himself as the mighty mongoose that was Christ's cool companion,
Swiftly slaying the antagonizing adder in the Garden beyond sin's canyon;
Next, weeping as the quintessential Herpestidae, during the scourge at our pillar's kin,
Which are our selfish smears of insidious sin;
Furthermore, not slaying toxicity while a humble crown mocked with thorns,
Yet accepting the humiliations, so that Christ's love can open the heavens to all fatigued forms;
Then, watching with weeping eyes as his Lord carried the timber burden,
Before brutally being nailed for our lack of righteousness--it so obviously certain
Since we seek not first the shimmering quiet of God,
Yet panic over the hullabaloo-like noise of an adversary's wickedly vociferous fraud;
On the contrary, his tears did fade in this sanctuary of silence, like a friendly mouse,
Chanting the Hail Holy Queen, and remembering Her brave and protectively chaste spouse;
As a result, Clovis knew that death has no salacious sting--
If we drink of the bodacious blood that in reticence does bravely sing;
Therefore, he would French Kiss Jenny McGee's foxy mouth,
Being resurrected to a sub-state of normality, and possibly, share the synergy as himself a spouse.  

1968 Ford Falcon Futura

   
   "1968 Ford Falcon Futura"
  
   Back in them spaced-out 1970's, when Stars Wars--the truly original, awesome ONE appeared on the Big Screen, I was living in Richmond, Virginia; moreover, my cool step-brother always let me pretend I was driving his car, which he'd park atop our gravel driveway, and alongside me was my dog, Hoover--not named after the former President, but after the vacuum cleaner.  Anyway, I don't know if this was his model of the Ford Falcon, and I'm talking the Coupe with the 289 V-8 small block.  Here are some stats and performance levels:
  
RWD; plus, manual 3-speed gearbox.

288.5 Cubic Inches.

Horses:  195.

Torque:  288 lb-ft.

0-60 Dash:  8 seconds.

Quarter Mile Sprint:  16.7 seconds.  

Fox Biddable (27)

   
   "Fox Biddable (27)"
   
   Healing Eagle had life as pestering Fox and Manly Mongoose were out on another compulsive date, yearning, not allowing love's fortune; nevertheless, they were believers, and the fusion of shimmering sparks would unite long-time--me love you long-time says Japanese rapper.
   Regardless, Healing Eagle loved the fox and mongoose, but enjoyed the sobriety of isolation save for the Great Spirit's true grace within him, without the poison of Kool-Aid.
   He resisted not evil.  Uttered beyond the Four Winds:  "Heart of Jesus, formed by the Holy Spirit in the Womb of the Virgin Mary; Heart of Jesus, SOURCE of ALL consolation."
   Next, he went inside and watched John Wayne drive a Honda.  The Duke got shot in the leg with an arrow in every movie, but never wounded like King Arthur in the high thigh; still, that King had his rocks--just didn't know it, but he does now.  

American Ride by Toby Keith with Lyrics

Fox Biddable (26)

   
   "Fox Biddable (26)"
   
   Jenny McGee was sitting at Healing Eagle's picnic table, alongside the shamanistic Cherokee, spilling her stinky beans on how Clovis was becoming an extraordinary ordeal of sorts.  Healing Eagle reminded her that the mongoose man had been battling venomous vipers his entire life, dealing with the deviled deck of dastardly demons, and that she had no "tuned in" clues on his feelings of guilt; moreover, he told her to be patient, accept the mutated, weak, strong, whatever--offering the consideration of consolation and cool calm, for it's not easy to endure a lifetime of crusty contagion.
   Jenny McGee agreed.  Just give the guy some Viagra, by way of sneaking it into some Kool-Aid; next, he'll drink it, lay the pipe, and get used to the art of a long love-making lounge in her warm and burning embrace.  
   But Healing Eagle also reminded, sensing her foxy tactics:  "Do not push or trick this man.  Just offer body language, as you are the fox and he is the mongoose; next, he will dance with you, and never give a man a gun unless he can dance.  Intercourse is not a sport, but play between two beings that love each other, in a sincere fashion--nothing more; nothing less."  

Fox Biddable (25)

   
   "Fox Biddable (25)"
   
   Clovis Bloom willingly broke down in front of Jenny McGee as she attempted to put her tongue in his mouth @ the Sonic, retreating by way of a phobic-fueled desire to inspect her oral cavity for overgrowth of fungi; specifically, examine her tongue for a thrush like phenomena; next, prescribe her active cultures and live-action garlic to chew, followed by white tea gelled with mint leaves and freshly ground cloves.
   "Clovis--I'm not gonna bite you."  She stated sweetly.
   Clovis' facial expression flared into a blush from beyond, him freakishly protesting:  "Oh my gosh--you're gonna attempt to give me oral sex--that could lead to your chili dog's bacterial content being inserted through my urethra, making me have to walk around with a wheelbarrow for weeks."
   Like a frozen grump, Jenny sat back in her seat, folded her arms as would an angry child, blew her hair out of her face, or attempted to, forgetting the near buzz cut; then, she said:  "Clovis--this may not work out."
   He was sanitizing his mouth with the inside of his t-shirt, and blurted:  "You're telling me sister; you're an animal."  

Fox Biddable (24)

   
    "Fox Biddable (24)"
   
   Healing Eagle was puffing away on his homegrown, neuroprotective tobacco, outside of the bowling alley, meditating upon the strong pitch of a Blue Jay's cunning tactics, and making Socratic observations upon the braggadocious bravado of a female Roman, wet behind her monkey ears, shouting, being high on Charlie Sheen:  "Yeehaw!  I got me a college education!  Yeehaw!  I got me a college education!  Yeehaw!  I'm as good as a doctor!  Went to a Bush League school, but I shave my hamster panties, being into infantile luminosity.  And I've given my brother a wet willy with my vainglorious vibrator--it's from the country, I pester with a ponder, of Africa, being jet black, and absorbs the negativity of not being able to fly Von Braun's velocity."
   Healing Eagle looked skywards, to Grandfather, knowing her father-in-law had been chased by three guys, cowardly flying home in an anxious panic, as that is his wife's woeful way, and his derelict Dad was laying a Lincoln Log in the receiving commode; next, a big, raunchy yet super-symmetrical poop made by grumpy grayskull, dumped from a cooter's caveman-like intestinal tract, rubbing his retreating rectum, within the foundation of the new, pseudo-suburban home he bought, and he never forgets the salacious smell, but takes it deep into his prostate's hesitation, while Homer Simpson works "you know where" and the eternally-fluxing flow of mundane monkeys, thinking more than a banana pugnaciously peeled out of indisputable urgency, but not, only to have chronic concern over eating Big Top Bozo peanuts from the 1970's festive carnival, when big elephants buried their own dead for the first time, and Chief Mojo Rising sees all.