Blitzkrieg of Passion

It wasn't meant to be love...

Warren sat at his desk looking out into the cold, suffocating bunker. He was safe, but he was alone. He felt cold and afraid. He quaked and shivered like a wet leaf in the October wind that nips at his nose. He could buy anything he wanted. He could buy a million blankets, a million bunkers. But all he wanted was to be held in the strong, beefy, rippling arms of his babe. Dwayne.

They met before the war started. Warren was walking down the street when he caught the eye of the burly man. His chocolate eyes melted in his. He wasn't meant to fall in love with someone like Dwayne, especially after his several arranged marriages (RIP Susan Buffet). But here he was, warmed with simply the idea of his hunky man

Dwayne was walking down the path carrying an excessive bag of all 30 species of durian fruits. He was blasting N'Sync through his earbuds and didn't see Warren lurking behind him. It was 2006, Susan Buffet had just passed. He wasn't the least bit distraught, neither of them loved each other. Susan Buffet was in love with Ellen DeGeneres and Warren was just a lonely, unlucky multi-billionaire. He couldn't help but watch Dwayne's hulking figure navigating his way through the crowds. He new it was love at first sight because he recognized the slight differences between durian species in his bag. Durians were Warren's favorite fruit, wait no second favorite fruit. Warren's new favorite fruit was Dwayne's adam's apple.

As soon as Warren recognized the many durians, he knew he had to act. No longer would he let his fear of institutionalized oppression against gay couples hold him back. For the first time in his ridiculously successful life, Warren felt the words he needed to say catch in his throat. He took a deep breath, stepped in front of Dwayne, blocking his path, and opened his wrinkly mouth (which unfortunately resembled a more wrinkled version of his bussy) to speak.

"H-Hey, sexy...." he spat.

Dwayne wiped the saliva off of his durians with his meatiest hand.

"Who the hell are you?" Dwayne asked, his voice as deep as ever

This accosted Warren, who at this point was only like 10 million years old instead of however old that personified piece of sourdough bread crust is now. He was so flustered. Leaning more towards being a twink at the time, he felt hopeless.

All he could manage was a weak "the man of your dreams".

Dwayne said "of course you are, you pathetic piece of shit." Looking the man who more closely resembled a soaked kleenex tissue gently lain over a skeleton of toothpicks than an actual human being.

The rest is history. They passionately made love on a bed of durian fruits and then ate every single fruit using only comedically large chopsticks and washed it down with an oversized wineglass full of only the most expensive concoction of gold leaf, paint, various bodily fluids, one tampon and champagne from the northernmost region of Greenland.

It wasn't meant to be love, but things don't always turn out the way that they are supposed to.