GAY How to be fit -OR- How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Salad

I realize now that Duke and Enema are perfect for one another. Her assertive outlook and unorthodox values are the yin to his yang. She would wear the pants in their home, pretending in adoration to fume at his obstinance, and ol' softy Duke, destined to become interdependent, would smile back in his own little way through a gruff facade. They're the kind of rare, cosmic couple you only hear about in stories, lovingly and faithfully married until they are too old and shriveled to walk anymore, outlived only by the trees they planted for one another in their younger years and sustained only by their mutual curmudgeonry. And then, on a melancholy day, one would quietly die within a week of the other from a broken heart, sitting alone in the special place they once shared together, wishing they could feel the other's touch just one last time.
I wish I could give you more gravy
 
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@Nemesi i still cant stop laughing at this!!! holy fawk!!! :D
 
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Aw, thanks. The trick to writing is to approach it like painting. Put your basic thought down, and then add to it. (In other words, I rewrote that about 10 times.)

nuh-uh. you just wrote down what you were already saying inside your head. duh. this shit flows outta you like it does an hour after eating chinese food from the mall two hours after lunch hour.