Cap and Me

Picture it: Friday night and I awake from a long nap.

He's there, looking at me, but I can't see him.

I turn on the tv and lie in bed, watching. I'm completely starkers.

Before dinner, I must engage in the ritual of Squeem (TM). The Squeem(TM) is a waist cincher that really tucks you in. I highly recommend it. But, you can't eat in it. And you can't sit in it either. Which means, it has a limited use: which is to reshape my square-ish torso that I inherited from godknows which side of the family. The point is, it works. When I take off the Squeem (TM) my abs are sucked in and they are CUT. But then, I have to eat dinner and of course, after dinner, I look like a snake that just ate a mouse. LUMPY. But it's just how I'm built. VAR VAR unfortunate.

After dinner, I look up, and he's there I can see him. He reaches out for me and I pull away, lest my dishes clatter to the wooden floor of my closet apartment. I place the dishes up and to the right of the Captain and I gaze upon his perfectly cut beautiful body.

He is six four, with creamy white skin, blue eyes and black hair. And, like I said before, very cut. I run my hand over his abs. So hard, and yet, the skin, so soft, as are other parts of him.

And then, there's the chocolate pudding. Here's the recipe for this: Drive to Von's, purchase a snack-pack of four, come home, dump on fiance-and lick off.

Oh, did I not mention the proposal?

Well, it's irrelevant, because he's not of this universe.

But I digress. After a time, after all the pudding was gone, there was salt-and I kissed him and let him swallow it all.

He's rare. Var, Var.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson