Jamie was the cute stall boy that would read me stories before bed. Once, he told me about two princes that were best friends, and all I could think about was him and I, the kind and the musher.
Today Jamie read me the story of the Hatfields and the McCoys. I loved it. I am the Hatcoy, and he is the McField.
Jamie is part of a group in school called the R.E.V. That stands for Revolution Encoded Vests. They all wear vests that say "VEC" on it. I'm not sure why it says that since it has nothing to do with their group, but I've always wanted a vest like that. I wish Jamie was part of us. I wish Jamie was a horse.
I wish Renee was still alive.
You are Jamie. Come here, Jamie. Tell me a story. Tell me a nice story about the sin bears and mother horse... About how the sin bears gruesomely squeezed her uterus out through her mouth.
What's going on?
Paraphrase this whole story in a single sentence, and what do you get? Chove, the stallion of the cinnamon. The bronco of the synonym. The meaty horse of the statistic.
That sounds great, thank you. Add bacon. Two pounds. Bacon. Put some Britton on top, too.
