No, survival was the way to go, not some cheap Flying Dutchman joke at the expense of my life.All I had achieved with my escape was to postpone my dea...h by a few years and to cut myself off from all communication, leaving me totally alone. At the beginning I had considered myself the lucky one, but doubts were beginning to creep in.While fleeing Europe through the English Channel, I had received my last bit of information about the fate of humanity. It came in the form of three separate and. God help me, there couldn’t have been a more perfect waitress at The Derrick. You’re not going to believe this shit. She comes up to me, and I swear to God the most perfect set of breasts I’ve ever seen is staring me in the face and it’s almost like those tits are talking to me, not her, when she says, ‘Cheeseburger with everything, side of onion rings?’ Now, I’d never been to this place before. There was no fucking way, man. I had just enough lubrication in me, it didn’t seem like nothin’ to. I had to check in with her every morning and afternoon by SMS to tell her what I was doing. She didn't always answer but it was her way of checking up on me to make sure that I wasn't being stolen by any other Mistress. Any other woman that she didn't approve of that is. After all, I was part of her income stream.The other thing is that she would often summon me like this. When I received a message "Be here at three o'clock" it was no good saying I couldn't, I had to move everything to be. I looked over toward him and said “What impeccable timing. You came right on time.”He laughed and said “Chrissie, I always come right on time.”“Is that right?” I replied “I shall have to remember that.” He began to empty his dryer and rather unceremoniously tossing his garments into a laundry basket. I amused myself by watching him and his haphazard way of tossing freshly clean clothing into the basket unfolded. Finally I just had to ask, “Didn’t anyone ever show you how to fold laundry?”He.
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