'You talk a goddamn awful lot, Priscilla.' Johnny said with a buck-toothed grin on his goofy face that was as sincere as the day is long.
'I am sleeping with Gerard Harrelson, Johnny.' said Priscilla. 'I am sleeping with him as we speak.'
Johnny's facial expression warped into a what an extremely apathetic Chinese dragon's face might look like if it were real and were an angry, inbred Appalachian boy who had just heard his girlfriend was fucking Gerard Harrelson.
'Shut up.' Johnny said and killed this Priscilla and thousands of other Priscillas in a violent Priscilla-murdering rampage.
'I will not shut up.' said Priscilla from outside of Johnny's homicidal fantasy. 'I am breaking up with you. I am breaking up with you because you are a sour lay. We have lost our sexual chemistry and there is no denying that I am sleeping with Gerard Harrellson right now so goodbye.'
She picked up her picnic basket and her tuna fish sandwich and walked by herself all the way from the grassy knoll overlooking the calming, pastel sunset to town to Gerard Harrellson's house and texted him that she was outside. Gerard opened the door.
'Did you decide to buy that 24 piece dinette set I offered you half-off?' he asked.
'I am here to fuck you.' she replied.
'I have a living to make Priscilla. It seems to me that making livings and shagging all day seem to me to be diametrical in opposition. You gonna buy the damn plates and utensils or aren't you?'
'Jesus Christ will save your soul.' A passing old spinster said.
'She's right.' Gerard conceded. 'C'mon in here so you can fuck me.'
Priscilla turned and walked away with a look of intense satisfaction on her face. She talked to herself maniacally the whole way home. Some of the phrases she uttered included 'I ain't teaching them coons no HTML', 'won't you just look at those assfucking Alaskans', and 'I am a beautiful and never-ending moonbutt'.
Johnny dove into Paddock Pond that night and never came back up.
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