Jazzmin Flush (77)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (77)"
   
   Jazzmin Flush regally retreated from the birthing scenario of Rascal's wonder womb, leaving Thomas elated with the pretentious pups barking their pride to life.  
   Jazzmin strolled urbanways, into the domain of many a hobo, regally reminded of her once underground poetry pamphlets that spread the bizarre ode of income equality, offering a chance to lend the homeless vagrants hope in respected earnings for their humble labors of being trash men, android constructors, hookers, and all that non-linear jazz.  But what haunted the California girl and her mane of glistening gold was simply:  SEX.  Why?
   And Thomas did look handsome all wolfed out in platinum-white fur and fangs that sparkled along with electric-blue eyes, ears a little shorter than a garden-variety wolf, and a tail straight with spiritual even flow.  She knew she could trust him, yet owed it to her aborted daughter to never attempt hatching a life-force within her surgically-touched womb--a surgery that resulted in the death of a human being.  Yes, Jazzmin's loins lusted love towards Thomas.  And Thomas was a skinny, solid, good-looking guy with his shaggy brown mess of hair, but how would she explain to the Good God her resistance to all the songs and psalms of inviolate purity?