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For heaven's sake, the damn thing, whatever it was, was no more than twenty yards from my feet. It shouldn't be beyond the wit of man to devise a method of reaching it. A few moments calculation indicated that, as the object was closer to the back of the copse, I would be better to brave the brambles.I returned to the shed and dug out my machete. The rhododendrons and I may have come to an amicable agreement but the same could not be said of the brambles which would invade the garden and take it over with absolutely no compunction unless I maintained constant vigilance. There was no entente cordiale between the brambles and me; it was all out war. Any bramble that showed its face in my garden received no mercy. Consequently I quailed slightly at the idea of taking the war to their own territory, so to speak. But my curiosity was roused and if a man is not able to master a bramble, he has no right to call himself a man.Judging what I thought to be the closest point to the intruder, I. I imagined those red lips kissing Rebekka’s God!“You know I’m still really horny tonight, don’t you, as she pulled a dress out from her closet; a short, silky, flowery wrap-dress. “Think she’ll like this one?” she asked me, holding it in front of her. God!Half an hour later, my Dani was walking out the door, “I’m picking her up, going to dinner… not sure about ‘after’.”She kissed me goodbye, her erotic ‘Tampa’ perfume fragrance lingering in my nostrils. I couldn’t stop marveling at the change in our lives in just the last couple weeks. A week ago ― Tampa; Last night ― Jenny; Tonight ― Dani having a date with another woman. Damn, the thought was hot!I needed something to occupy my time. I’ve always wanted to make carnival-style corn dogs. I know, weird, huh, but that was my mind recently. I found the recipe I’d been looking at online: Flour, corn starch, eggs… twenty-four hot dogs. I was thinking more in the line of two. Figured I could cut down everything to one-twelfth but wasn’t.
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