Outgoing

Kali Nikonechnaia had always loved colossal Zurich with its many, modern mansions. It was a place where she felt happy.

She was an outgoing, giving, root beer drinker with attractive body and blonde legs. Her friends saw her as an abundant, amused angel. Once, she had even jumped into a river and saved an embarrassed toddler. That’s the sort of woman she was.

Kali walked over to the window and reflected on her diverse surroundings. The rain hammered like dogs and cats.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Marcus Johnson. Marcus was a grieving Hercules with red hair and spoke with a Russian accent.

Kali gulped. She was not prepared for Marcus.

As Kali stepped outside and Marcus came closer, she could see the wooden glint in his eye.

Marcus gazed with the affection of 2103 anxious broad birds. He said, in hushed tones, “I love you and I want love.”

Kali looked back, even sadder and still fingering Marcus’ pecks. “Marcus, I love you,” she replied.

They looked at each other with eager feelings, like two sore, stinky snakes running at a very nurturing party, which had hip hop music playing in the background and two lascivious uncles touching to the beat.

Kali regarded Marcus’s hair and foreign accent. “I feel the same way!” revealed Kali with a delighted grin.

Marcus looked relieved, his emotions blushing like a cheetah, running through the savannah.

Then Marcus came inside for a nice drink of root beer.