FSE

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IT'S ALWAYS TIME

Act One: Boy Meets Goo

Chapter One: There Ain't Nothing in the World...

Dee reached into the refrigerator, peeled off the cellophane sealing the wide mouth of the metal mixing bowl, and chickened out.

"I can't do this," he said.

He tipped the bowl and took a long, hard look at the Jell-O inside. The surface shone in the fridge's light but didn't shift. The gelatin had set even though the instructions said Dee still had two more hours to wait.

"I'm not going to wait because I'm not going to do this."

He slammed the fridge closed and stood there for a while. Then he stomped around his breakfast table to the kitchenette's bay window and shuttered the blinds. After another pause, he ran around the empty apartment drawing the curtains on every window and double bolted the front door for good measure.

The bowl was back in his hands again. "Okay," he sighed.

The bowl clattered onto the round glass top of the little breakfast table. He glared down into the bowl's wide mouth. His wobbly reflection frowned back at him. After a final moment of hesitation, he dropped a hand down into the bowl. It made a loud slap when his hand hit the gelatin and he jerked back, embarrassed. The cool sticky stuff seemed to smooch at his hand when he pulled, reluctant to let go.

Damn. That felt good.

He pressed his open palm into the gelatin again. The surface gave but didn't break. The tension of the stuff felt, well, delicious. He waggled his hand. The gelatin tried to keep up and parted with another long, lazy, traveling smooch. He rubbed his thumb over the tips of his fingers. They weren't even wet.

"Wow," he said.

So that's what it must feel like. He could write about that, he decided. He wanted to write about that. Hell, he'd promised to write about that, promised to write some "goo girl" fiction for some Internet friends. Well, you couldn't really call them friends, but they all shared his bizarre fascination with, okay, let's face it, fucking The Blob's hot younger sister, and that created some sort of strange solidarity. So, after seeing yet another anonymous posting of the same goo girl art for the umpteenth time he flippantly offered to write some goo girl erotica. Now posters were clamoring for some "fic" and when he first sat down to write he realized he had no idea how to describe what touching a goo girl felt like. Hence, the Insane Jell-O Experiment was born.

Dee grabbed a cookie sheet from the cupboard, pushed it under the bowl, and then twirled the bowl upside down with his fingers. He gave it a good shake and peeked under. Nothing. He clanked the upside down bowl back onto the cookie sheet and whacked it on the top a few times for good measure. He slowly lifted the bowl. Nothing.

"God damn non-stick coating my ass!" Dee muttered, throttling the bowl in both hands and shaking it like a stubborn ketchup bottle; he'd paid fifty bucks for the stupid thing!

He felt something in the bowl shift and the whole mass of gelatin, shaped like a giant, rounded gumdrop, plopped down onto the cookie sheet. The sheet juddered and knocked something off the table.

He sat down on the rickety wicker chair and reached out both hands for the quivering mound. He surprised himself at how easily his imagination turned the rounded gelatin into a tap-worthy ass, or a massive breast.

The object knocked off the table rolled to a stop by his foot. Dee looked down, saw the battered tin of thickening powder, and every thought of sex fled as he remembered...

* * * *

The only place Dee thought might sell what he was looking for was a medical supply store. He found one, SRU Medical Technology. Getting there and back home added 40 minutes to his commute after some emergency Sunday troubleshooting in the corporate server farm. A square, white brick building squat in the center of a paved lot far bigger than it could ever need, out in the middle of nowhere. The only vehicles in the lot were a busted-up, generic white pickup truck and a rose red Morris Mini Coop -- not one of those trendy new ones, Dee noted, but an import at least 20 years old. Well, at least one person in there has good taste, he thought. He slunk through the front door. The bell hanging from the doorframe was loud and jarring.

Petrified, Dee browsed the same aisle for fifteen silent minutes. He wondered: Do people browse in medical supply stores? They know what they want when they come in, don't they? Dee noticed the doughy clerk staring at him from a stool behind the glass counter. Dee looked at the products in the aisle he'd been browsing for the first time: ostomy supplies. Oh, God...

He felt like he was in a porn store with his mom. He shuffled over to the clerk. A short woman with long, black hair was busy in a supply closet behind him. "Do you sell thickening agent?" Dee asked the clerk.

"Excuse me?"

"Thickening agent, for liquids. You know, for people who have trouble drinking without aspirating?"

"Sure," the clerk grunted. As the clerk led him down the aisle for food supplements, Dee thought he saw the woman's oval face peek out at them.

The clerk handed him a large tin of something called Thique-It and turned back to the counter, but Dee stopped him. "Does it - sorry - Do you know if it works with Jell-O?"

The clerk pivoted on his heels. "What?"

"Does this stuff work with Jell-O?"

After a long staring contest, the clerk asked, "Why would you need to thicken Jell-O?"

"Because," Dee began, feeling his ears start to burn. "Well," he tried again, "so the Jell-O stays thick, even after it gets...warm?"

The clerk snorted, plucked the Thique-It out of Dee's hands, tossed it back on the shelf, and marched to the counter without even glancing back. Dee realized he was going to puke. Luckily, emesis buckets were in the next aisle. He whirled about, ready to run, only to find the young woman standing right behind him, smiling inscrutably. "I've got what you want," she said, her dark eyes merry. She led him into the crowded supply closet, and pressed a battered, narrow tin into his hand. The yellowed label read, "SRU Thickening Agent."

"You guys have a generic label?" Dee asked.

The woman pursed her lips and gave a one-shouldered shrug that could have meant anything. "First time, start with something easy, like chocolate or vanilla pudding. That way, it's hard to mess the mixture up."

Dee didn't really understand, but he nodded anyway.

"If you're feeling adventurous," she smiled, "you can try cherry." Her smile turned wistful and she sounded like her mind was a thousand miles away when she added, "or...strawberry-banana."

He asked her the price, but that just brought her out of her reverie. "But not lime," she insisted. "No lime. Too tricky, lime. Oh, how much? You want some? For you, five dollar.

"But no lime!"

* * * *

...Dee stared at the giant lime green gumdrop settling on his tiny breakfast table. He had been so mortified by the SRU ordeal that he just grabbed the first Jell-O packet he found at the nearest convenience store, and of course when he got home he discovered it was lime Jell-O. There had been no way in Hell he was going back out there, so he made the lime Jell-O anyway, adding extra SRU thickener just incase the crazy lady had a point. In the florescent light of his kitchen, the gelatin looked pearlescent and a bit opaque. Must be the thickener, he thought.

Dee looked at the clock, 12:44 AM, on a work night, no less. It was now or never. He grabbed the side of the mound and squeezed. "Holy shit," he breathed.

It was pliant but firm, puckering around his palm and dimpling over his fingers. Cool, sticky and yet somehow smooth. He felt himself growing hard. It's official, he realized. I've got a new fetish.

He stood, took off his shoes, and then sat on his knees in the wicker chair, crooking his legs into the chair's back for support. His crotch was now level with the breakfast table, his pants tenting toward the gelatin mound.

I can do this, he thought as he pulled his pants and underwear down. Maybe it's the air blowing from the ceiling vents or it's just my imagination, but didn't the gelatin just tremble a tiny bit?

He was not comfortable like this at all. Dee carefully untangled himself from the chair. He grabbed the cookie sheet, one hand on each side, plucked it off the table, and lowered it down.

"I can do this," he said, shifting his weight.

His erection pointed straight at the gelatin mound. He could feel the cool air sliding of the gelatin around the head of his cock.

"I can do this," he said again.

The memory of the contempt on the clerk's face, how the clerk's eyes began to narrow and dim when Dee said "So the Jell-O stays thick, even after it gets...warm?" rose unbidden in Dee's mind, and his cock fell.

"I can't do this," he muttered, defeated.

He dropped the cookie sheet back onto the kitchen table and marched to his bedroom. The door slammed behind him. In the kitchen, the lime gelatin sat on the tabletop, warming to room temperature.

"Mother fucker," it said.

* * * *

"Late for work," Dee said as he came out of the bathroom the next morning, wrestling with his polyester-blend yellow tie. "Where the Hell are my shoes?" He remembered. "Oh, kitchen, right."

He crossed the narrow living room. "Late for work, late again--Aw, what the Hell?"

The gelatin had melted overnight, but "melted" wasn't the right word, since the thickener apparently had done its job. Instead of a puddle of green water, the round breakfast table was coated in green icing. And not just the small tabletop, either. The table was completely draped in a sheet of green icing that pooled in rolls on the floor, like a tablecloth made out of expensive green ribbon candy.

He could see one of his work shoes poking out from under the stuff.

Dee stumbled into the kitchen and went to the table. "My only good pair of shoes," he muttered, reaching for the black leather heel.

The ribbon candy tablecloth around the shoe plucked itself upward, like the a stage-curtain or the ruffles of a prom-dress, and a stiletto-heeled pump shot out from under the table and pinned his hand to the floor.

Shocked by the sudden, sharp pain, Dee did not think to freak out as he took in some quick details. The fuck-me pump bruising his knuckles looked like it was made of green glass, an accessory for a horny Cinderella trying to spice up her flagging love life with Prince Charming. Before the ribbon candy tablecloth dropped down again, he caught the flash of a long, curvy leg, as green as the pump.

Somewhere above his head, a woman started speaking, her voice rich and dusky. "You little tease!" she said.

Dee craned his neck up. A green shape was lifting up out of the top of the table like the T-1000 gathered itself off the floor in Terminator 2. Daggers of hair in a pixie-styled bob cut framed a heart shaped face with big, glittering eyes, button nose, and a small mouth. The face glared down as it rose higher on a graceful neck. Narrow but square shoulders humped out of the stretching green mass on the tabletop.

As the figure rose, the tablecloth synched up, revealing more leg and taking on the appearance of a short ruffled skirt. From his vantage point, Dee could see that the green goop had coated the flat undersurface of the table, extending down into scissoring legs. As if aware he was looking, the green stuff right under the table filled out into a pert derriere. Garters flicked down like cilia but no underwear formed beneath them.

That's when the thought, I just might be in trouble, finally crossed Dee's bewildered mind. But he lost his train of thought again as soon as her breasts ballooned outward. They bobbled above him, bigger than his head.

"I see I've finally started to get your attention," she said, lifting her heel.

His hand free, Dee rocked back and fell on his ass.

"But I want your full attention," the green woman breathed. She bent down toward him at an impossibly deep angle, draping dainty arms about his shoulders.

She flashed a grin down at him. Her teeth were big, green, and slick. Looking back up at her through the valley of her breasts inches away from his face, his whole world narrowed to a fountain of hair, tits, and cupid-bow lips, all straining and swirling out of green gelatin. Dee's engorged dick pressed painfully against his pants zipper.

"Now," said that fiery voice, "how would you like it if I just marched into the bedroom to sleep the day away, hmm?"

She arched an eyebrow at Dee. He thought for a minute.

"Uh," he said.

She rolled her big, liquid eyes and hauled him up onto his feet. "Oof!" she said, rubbing a wrist. "You're a skinny fellow." She looked down and flashed that toothy, feline grin again. "Except where it counts, I think. That was harder than it should have been. Why am I so weak? Need energy."

She reached back and above her head in a contortion that would kill a yoga master and flicked open the bay window blinds. The light of sunrise flooded the kitchen, and flooded through her. She sparkled like an old fashioned coca-cola bottle.

"Oh!" she giggled. "I'm hollow. That explains it. You're not into balloons, are you?"

She arched an eyebrow at Dee. He thought for a minute.

"What?" he said.

"I didn't think so," she sighed. "I need more mass."

She turned her face to the left bask in the sun, her head became a corona of limelight. "Well, I have the energy. Enough for now, anyway."

Dee stepped back. Without turning her head, she shot her arms out and grabbed his shoulders in a vice grip. "But I'm just a girl. A fertile girl, a fecund girl, sure, but even a fertile girl..." Her face turned to the left, again, to whip 360 degrees around, and met Dee's shaky gaze. Her canary-eating grin was so wide Dee thought the top of her head might topple off. "...needs fertilizer," she finished.

She arched an eyebrow at Dee. He thought for a minute.

"Huh?" he said.

She stamped her feet. "Baka!"

One green arm coiled around his neck like a snake while the other shot down to his groin. The tentacular arm around his neck was cool and it sucked and smooched at his skin. The hand at topping the tentacle swayed in front of his face for a moment before dipping down to rip off his tie and scuttle under his shirt.

"Hey, bright boy," she said, "look down."

Her right hand waved up at him from his crotch, her arm extended like a hose. Five extra digits shot out of the hand and all ten fingers wriggled up at him in greeting. They were double jointed-no, they didn't have joints at all, and in split second they were all in his pants. She didn't bother with niceties like unzipping his fly. She oozed around any obstacle.

Dee and the green girl gasped in unison. "Ooh, bright boy is a big boy." she said.

Dee tried to take a step back but the loops around his neck and shoulders guaranteed he was not going anywhere. Her sticky-smooth fingers rubbed the tip of his cock, circled under his glans, rippled over his shaft, pumped at his root, and kneaded his balls. Dee's knees began to buckle. His eyes rolled back into head and the room went dark. Somehow her warm breath washed over one ear as her tongue went spelunking in the other. "Coup de gras," the green girl giggled as her left hand completed its lazy journey to join her right.

The room filled with syrupy sounds. "This is my Demonic Fifteen Point Fleshlight Palm Technique," her voice whispered into his ear as some other set of lips hungrily closed over his mouth.

His tortured cock exploded and her greedy flesh milked it for all it was worth. White spunk swirled across the inner surface of her candy-glass torso. She purred in alien pleasure and let Dee go. He toppled over, out cold. She flowed off the table and her fuck-me pumps went thup-tup as she sauntered over to gaze down at him. His cum pearled and fell like rain within her.

"Fuck all you want," she said, "I'll make more."

* * * *

Dee woke to the sound of sparkling, girlish laughter.

He found himself in bed, morning sun warming the sheets, and for a moment he believed the encounter in the kitchen had been a dream. He'd had much stranger dreams before. After all, he'd been jerking off to Internet porn for years, so a trip into his unconscious was like a Google Image search with the filter set to "The Goggles, They Do Nothing."

But he heard that peeling laughter again. Dee propped himself up and saw a dream made flesh. Well, no, not exactly flesh...

Dee's bedroom was a sparse affair. His university diploma, a framed map of Middle Earth, and a few X-Men and Justice League pinups decorated the cheery wallpaper left by the prior tenant. His pride and joy, his custom gaming rig, lurked catty-corner from his bed. Another computer desk occupied the third corner of the room, where he kept his media server PC (a perpetual work in progress) and the generic WinTel box he used for surfing the Internet and telecommuting.

The jellified girl sat in front of the second desk, facing his flat screen monitor. Each helpless giggle shot a burst of concentric ripples through her substance.

There was a lot more to her now. She was solid, an erotic sculpture the color and clarity of green toothpaste gel. Hips flared out from a wasp-narrow waist but instead of legs she was nothing but a suggestively curved mass of green goop ending in two wide tendrils pooling on the floor and threatening to envelop the chair. When she threw her head back to howl in glee, green ooze would spill over the headrest and crawl down the black back of the leather chair only to slurp back up again when she doubled over in mirth. Doubled over, her upper body would merge into the lower in wide, lazy rolls. Only her spiky hair (no separate strands, of course, just spikes like thick dreadlocks of Jell-O) and the outward curves of her impossibly huge, spectacular breasts remained defined. Even in this state, without a mouth or even a face, she could laugh, although the sound was little more than muffled echoes.

An eruption of laughter brought her hourglass figuring shooting back out again. "Oh, my God, I love the Internet. This is just too funny!"

Dee tried to find his voice. His throat was completely parched. "What are you looking at?" he croaked.

She waved a wobbly arm at him, not turning around. "Morning, sunshine!" she said. "What did you say?"

He coughed. "What's so funny?"

"Something I found in your Anime folder. Ahaha! It's funny because it's true! C'mere, you've got to see this! This school stuff is so great!"

He had the entire run of the comedy Azumanga Diaoh in there: funny, a little bit naughty, but mostly family friendly stuff. Maybe I'm not in that much trouble after all. "Which episode?" he asked, smiling.

She literally collapsed into laughter again. When she gathered herself together, she replied between gulps of air. "Oh, I dunno. Something called 'Legend of the Overfiend.'"

Oh, shit.

She slowly came down from her giggle fit, her little barks of laughter - ah-ho! ah-he! - growing fewer and farther between. He shook his head to clear the fuzz from his mind, but it just made his temples throb. I've got to get out of here, he decided. "I'm sorry, but I need to go or I'll be late for work."

His monitor blazed a brilliant white as she called up a Google search. She typed something in and his company's homepage popped up. "Nah, I took care of that." An arm of ooze fountained up and waved his cell phone at him.

"What?" Dee said.

A couple of locks of hair extended into thin tendrils and mocked dialing on the cell phone. "Beep! Beep-boo-beep!" she said

Her arm pressed the cell-phone to the side of her head, then into it. Something complicated happened inside her neck and it bulged out a bit. "Hello," she droned, and Dee jumped at the sound of his own voice coming from her, "this is Dieter Detwiler. Can you put me in touch with HR? My," she mocked-sighed, "my grandmother died, you see, and I need to ask about bereavement leave -"

"You killed Nana?!" Dee cried, leaping to his feet on the bed. His unbuttoned pajama top fell off, leaving him only in briefs. He lurched forward on the cheap spring mattress, tangled his feet in the thin comforter, slipped on the discarded top and toppled to the floor.

"What?" his voice came from her again. She swung around to face him - or, rather, her features did an about-face turn on her body. Even in his panic, he couldn't help but notice how the entire back of the chair disappeared into the deep valley of her cleavage.

"Grandma!" he choked, scrabbling to get up, to get away. "You killed--"

"What!?" she shouted, in her voice this time. "Oh, Dieter: No! What kind of monster do you take more for? I just made up a story, that's all! I even faked a death certificate - thank you Internet! - but they didn't even ask for it. You've got three days of bereavement leave left. Calm down!"

Dee sat up on his knees. "Sorry. I thought that - before you seemed so angry and I--"

"That's okay," she said. "I did murder your girlfriend, though. It's wasn't my fault, she dropped by without even calling and--"

"You killed her?" Dee demanded, rising with fists clenched. "Oh my fucking God how could - Wait a minute. I don't have a girlfriend."

"You don't? Must've been the maid then."

"I can't afford a maid."

"Nosey neighbor, maybe?"

"You're just making this up."

"Of course," she cooed, and stood up, or at least elongated up to her apparent full height.

The lower half of her hourglass figure didn't spread out as much as when she sat, but there was only a deep, v-shaped dimple instead of separate legs. She glided close to him, undulating over the rug like a snake or snail. Dee was nearly six feet tall, but his nose was level with the base of her throat. She reached out to caress his shoulders, but her breasts got there first.

The sensation blew his mind and nearly his load. It started when the nubs of her sticky nipples pressed into his collar bone. There was resistance and pressure but her tits didn't push him back. They just kept coming, like a tide. Two circles of gooey, cool, soft sensation grew and then merged and then surged around his arms and up his neck and down his belly and -

"Ooops," the green girl said, eyes twinkling in mischief. "Talk about overkill. Better reel these babies in."

With a sliding slurp the tide of tits receded. She drew some of her chest's substance into the rest of her body, which darkened appreciatively. "There we go," she sighed. "Big enough to shame any porn star, small enough to fit through the door. Where was I?"

It took Dee a moment to respond. "You, uh, were making jokes about killing people."

"Right," Her facial features rearranged themselves into a vision of sorrowful sincerity, green, glistening oval teardrops brimming from her pancake-sized eyes. "I'm sorry, honey," she breathed, caressing his shoulder "of course I didn't kill anybody. I've spent the past two days with you, in here."

"Two days? That's right. Bereavement leave is five days and you said I had three days left. What happened?"

Her face instantly flicked into mischief mode again. "You don't remember the Demonic Fifteen Point Fleshlight Palm Technique, honey," she said, mocking sympathy this time.

His nuts tried to draw up into his pelvis. "Oh yes I do."

"No, Dieter, you just remember the first few minutes of it. It seems the human male's higher thinking functions shut down at certain levels of biochemical pleasure stimulus. We'll have to get you some beta-blockers, sweetie."

"I don't understand," Dee stammered.

"The Demonic Fifteen Point Fleshlight Palm Technique lasts 48 hours."

Dee plopped back down on the bed. The green girl's arm stretched down with him, her hand still tender on his shoulder. "Well that explains the hangover I guess. God, what a headache. Listen, just what the Hell is going on?"

The green girl cocked her head to one side. "I bet you're thirsty."

"Yeah, but what the Hell is--"

"Me too!" A sine wave rocketed down the gel of her arm and the force of it pushed Dee prone on the bed. "You sit tight, I'll grab us something."

She drew herself up and her outline snapped into focus, going from the suggestion of curves to very real curves in a matter of moments. Her legs were long, strong, and well defined as any runway model's. Those jade, sexy-Cinderella, fuck-me pumps popped out of her feet again, sending a wave rolling down her body as she heaved up few more inches, her breasts bobbing a mesmerizing rhythm above Dee's head. Her nipples stuck out, sculpted in a relief of smoky, opaque green in stark contrast to the milky-crystal translucency of the breasts they crowned. He could see a fun-house mirror distortion of his gaming rig through those curved globes.

"Ahem! What color are my eyes?"

"A darkling green," Dee said before looking up to meet her impatient glare. "Emeralds on black velvet."

She faltered a step back, a flush the color of a wine-dark sea painting her neck and cheeks. She stammered, "That, that was a much unexpected thing for you to say, Dieter."

Dee smiled for the first time since he walked into that SRU supply shop. "Your games and tricks are very distracting but I do pay attention, you know. And call me Dee, please."

"Games, Dee?" she asked. There was a sound like the fluttering of many wings as a crisp, maid's pinafore unfurled to just above her knees and a frilly tea-green apron crawled itself up to strain against her magnificent chest. "What games?" Pale stringy rivulets zigzagged around and down her legs to form fishnet stockings of liquid glass. To top it all off, a maid's bonnet with an elephantine bow jumped out of the top of her head with a loud, smacking pop.

Dee groaned, rubbing his temples with one hand and waving her away with the other. "Okay, okay, you win. Do what you want, but promise me you'll answer some questions."

She gave him the thumbs up, a broad wink, and thup-tupped out of the room. He heard her bustling about in the kitchen for a minute before her head peeked back into the bedroom doorframe for a minute. The noise of busywork in the kitchen continued unabated. "You aren't hungry, are you?" she asked.

"No thank you," he said. Then realization dawned. "Hey, if you've been--if we've been doing--if I haven't eaten in the past two days, how come I'm not hungry?"

A cruel smirk puckered her lips. "Oh, you've eaten," she said before her head zipped out of sight.

She sashayed back in the room so laden with supplies she'd grown an extra pair of arms to carry them. He didn't have a table in his bedroom, so she arrayed everything on the floor: a couple cartons of milk, four gallons of bottled water, the discarded instant Jell-O box, a shot glass, the tin of SRU thickener, two brown bottles of expensive ginger beer, and an old bottle of Nyquil from his medicine cabinet. Dee sat up on the bed and she handed him a ginger beer. He drank the bottle down to the dregs. "What's the Nyquil for?" he asked, stifling a belch.

"Getting high," she said. She sat down cross legged and smoothed out her skirt and her extra arms drew back into her mass. She poured a thimbleful of the green medicinal into the shot glass. "I don't know what this does for you, but one snort of this shit and I'm flying." She slammed the shot glass back and the bow in her hair dissolved and her skirt crinkled up. "Woo yeah!"

Dee shook his head, hopped off the bed and helped himself to the second ginger beer. "Okay," he said, "question time."

She nodded. "Shoot."

"What's your name?"

She shrugged. "Dunno."

"How do you know my name?"

She crooked her thumb at the WinTel box. "Innernet," she slurred.

"How do you know how to use a computer? Or that bit about beta-blockers? Or English? Or fetish maid outfits?"

"Dunno. Innernet?"

Dee eyed the SRU tin. "Where did you come from?"

She took one last hit of Nyquil before screwing down its bottle cap. "Fridge. You. Before that? Dunno."

"What is that stuff?" Dee asked, pointing to the tin.

"Nanomek."

"Nanotech?"

"Nanommmek."

Dee gulped. "You haven't taken more of it, have you?"

She swayed a bit, losing definition, oozing back into her abstract form. "Me? Nah, don' need it. Could use more collagen, though, but not that cheap stuff," she added, nudging the Jell-O box with a pseudo-foot. "Make me stronger. Let me do more. Have more fun." Her grin was wicked and wet, her teeth scimitars. She tried waggling her eyebrows suggestively, but her forehead just fell into her eyes instead. She smoothed it back with both hands, and for a minute her whole head was bullet-shaped before it bobbled back into the cherubic heart-shape she seemed to prefer.

The ginger beer slipped from his fingers and fell fizzing to the hardwood floor. "Why? Why do you want to have fun? That is, fun with me?"

"Love you."

Dee sat dumbstruck until she socked him on the shoulder and added, "Dumb ass."

* * * *

Ain't nothing in the world like a green skin girl

But that don't mean to say you can't look!

• XTC, Omnibus

* * * *