Prisoner of Love

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I looked out the window and what did I see? It was Liam, one of Paul's secret Union buddies doing push-ups while running towards my balcony. He jumped up to the balcony because he's got mad hops and landed, flexing his undulating gastonemius. He wiped his pearlescent sweat off of his forehead and pouted into the distance. I cried at the essence of manliness. "Liam, we've enlisted you to help teach this young padawon how to be a man." Taylor caroled.

"You must be swift as a coursing river, with all the force of a great typhoon. With all the strength of a raging fire, mysterious as the dark side of the moon." Liam inspired.

I looked off at the rolling hills of the carnage of the battlefield, feeling so manly. Liam then cantered across the fields back to Union base. We then recited the Pledge of Allegiance. Then we said it again, but this time in Spanish.

Heather swooped me up into a man hug, "You're ready for war, brah. Hint: that's what men call each other."

"I know, I replied, "I deduced it from Liam's spiel."

I strutted like a man, with my chest puffed out and muscles at the ready, heading off to the next battle, which is conveniently next to the White House like all the rest of the battles. I felt a nipping on my leg, IT WAS A RAVENOUS FLAMINGO. It started pecking off my legs with a rage fire burning within its soul. I grabbed it by the beak and snapped its long neck over my knee. I turned and saw Stonewall Jackson with an open flamingo cage. Voldemort was standing weirdly close to him, whispering sweet nothing's into his ear. A sick realization had punched me in the stomach: Voldemort was the reason behind this entire war.

I yelled at them, they leapt onto their horse and hastened away.

I continued into the dark forest, huffing and puffing, a figure presented itself through the dark. I point my gun at him, aiming straight for the cervical. He put his hands up defensively, immediately surrendering. I gasped IT WAS PAUL. I whinnied over to him and forced my lips onto his. My mustache tickled his facials. He shoved me away with the strength of a musk ox on steroids. He was gagging and wretching. "Brah, I don't want to kiss you. I want to kiLL you. Switch the s's to l's, brah. Wanna tussle?"

"Well played." I said, ripping off my mustache.

He fell back, stunned into silence. "Sh-Sharkeisha?" He stuttered, "Woah, she's not afraid." he chuckled.

I glared at him, "This is no time for your tomfoolery." I farted.

We then heard several pairs of footsteps trompeling through the shrubbery.

To be continued.