Voltaic Junkyard--instructed not to love

   
   "Voltaic Junkyard--instructed not to love"
   
   Sheila knew her take-out delivery guy well; moreover, she trusted him, ya know--not to sprinkle some of this or that on her food.  He was a cool Chinese kid with a clean spirit, and long hair, as if woven from mystic silk.  She met him at the gate, waiting all lean and chiseled in camouflaged manner--God knew what he was doing when He constructed her, and that She-Hulk look in her eyes might frighten the rest, but Bao (delivery guy) knew she was sweet and cool.  So, Bao pulled up in his rice burner; next, did a Peter Cottontail hop out of the economically-inclined automobile and offered her the sanitized cuisine.

SHEILA
Thanks my man--always a pleasure.  Now, have a good one.

BAO
Why you always rush me off?  Why you have no friends?  You gorgeous.  No boy toy?

SHEILA
You want it plain and simple?  That's how I fly.

BAO
Of course--you sweet girl Sheila.

SHEILA
Some people are instructed not to love.  And we all yearn to be loved.  And I know the right passages; specifically, the types of love.  But fools think we're all like them, not knowing that an angel's kiss can be more innocent than marriage from two people who don't give a rat's ass about each other.  Not everybody is into rabbit humping--get me?  A touch from anything that wishes you well--it's freaking electric.

BAO
You like Bao?

SHEILA
I love ya guy.  Extends her hand, which Bao takes and shakes.

BAO
Wow--strong grip, and yet--so lovely.

SHEILA
Have a good one--till next time . . .