Nick kissed Gatsby passionately. Scandalous, am I right?
"Old sport." Gatsby whispered into Nick's ear. Nick felt Gatsby's hot breath run against his skin and win a gold metal at the Olympics. His face went Fanta Strawberry red as he whispered back, "What the hell did I tell you about calling me old sport? I'm going to kill you, Gatsby."
"Don't be like that." Gatsby huskily whispered as he feverishly fevered away the pesky clothing that was on Nick's shoulder. Was it made out of mosquitos? Why is it pesky? Anyways, Gatsby tenderly kissed Nick's shoulder.
"Ugh, don't make it gay, Gatsby." Nick said.
"Call me Gaysby." Demanded Gaysby as he ATE NICK'S SHOULDER
HOLY BUTTS
NICK, ARE YOU OKAY?
SOMEONE CALL 911, GAYSBY'S LOST CONTROL
