Touch me. Touch me like you didn't touch me last night.

            “You know, until last year I didn’t have a problem with boats. Since then, though, I’ve not been very keen on them,” said Sir Reginald, “I’ll also have you know that I’m using the word ‘boat’ very loosely here.”

            “Keep insultin’ my boat and I’ll make yeh swim,” smiled Gavin.

            “Don’t fuck with me, you sawney bastard. I know a shitty boat when I see one, and this,” he said, breaking off a piece of the prow with one hand, “is a shitty boat.”

            “Hey, that was like that for a reason!”

            “And the motor you’ve got on this thing. It sounds like its grinding kittens.”

            “Why d’yeh think the exhaust smells like burning hair?”

            “I like kittens,” frowned Reginald.

            “You think I didn’t know that?”


Love,

benjamin
Who always seems to be the one who always has to sit next to--and, as such, shout at to scare him into closing his damn mouth--the crazy guy with the trash bag who's yelling at the far-too-polite black guy across the aisle to "Shut up and go back to India!"