🚀 go-pugleaf

Last week's smile yet malingering (detrimental to my image, I
fear), I'll miss(ive) him in a whenever/ifever interlude, unable to
overly regret that his Somethings should be so, so .. soaring
when the resultant (outof)lines are as captivating as I could ever
wish for: rilly, he is simply So Nice that I shall here drift off
into a dottiness of ellipsis... ... ... ... recovering only to beg
you to please mail me now the phone numbers of yr favourite
usurers; I'm planning on pawning Buckingham Palace in order to buy
him the entire stock of the National Rose Society gardens.  With
the exception of the greenfly.  And the pink roses.  The pink ones
aren't very nice.  No offence to Arthur's pill-box hat -- and,
Arrrthurrr, another song please?  "I heard the news today, oh boy":
ses yeux [kept times three (3)] enfinely and it's "all ... right",
though I would raise one eyebrow in supercilious inquiry at whether
he really thinks self needs any more reminding than self accords self
that it is fiction, only I cannot: the muscle structure does not
allow it: I continually regret this.  Shall I try thought-transference:
"M., if anything can happen, why didn't you marry me one thousand
(1000) years ago?  And, M., can you raise one eyebrow, doesn't matter
which one, Without Moving The Other: if so, please, how is it done?
Would you care to expand on that `urk'?  And, M., despite my lamentable
inability to discern what you wish or do not wish to hear, this much I
know: even though you deny all claim to the town, it is, and always
has been, your kingdom.  And, M., tbc.

H.