Ensign Tarzan Junior decided that tonight was a perfect night for some monkey business. As he ventured out of his dark room and through the gate leading from his home, he glanced back and was able to appreciate the effort it took to build his house. You see, being a castaway in a swamp made little difference to him. He had bricks. 23 of them, to be exact. He was hoping that to get through his seasonal depression, adiquatly named his shade of doom, he would take an adventure at ssea. He was working against the clok, you see, as his alter Aego, Airic, was struggling to break forth. You see he feered his ability to keep his multiple personality in check when he did not receive his blackbox. To console himself, he went to watch a little bit of beach volleyball, and ended up in a fucking super tennis rink. The women were nice to look at. They weren’t any beauties from the Celtic tribes, but still, Tarzan couldn’t argue that they weren’t drones, either.
As he flirted a little bit, he got one of them to agree to take a drive back to his humble home. Her name, it turns out was Cindy. Inspector Cindy, he was informed. As they traveled in style, Tarzan couldn’t stop anticipating the judgement day to come.
After they returned home and did what all couples do, they lay on the bed the next morning, speaking in soft words. Tarzan told Cindy, “I’m glad you made that choice of games we played last night. Being a cyclepath on the road to rage while exploring your jungle with my Snake, finally allowing me to claim your playroom was most invigorating.” With a smile, Cindy replied, “When you finished, it was so spactacular, tarzan. You pulled out, gave your pipe a good pull, and it it exploded all over my face. It had the color of a snowball, and the consistency of a mud splat. Really good going, Tarzan. I’m not sure how I’m going to forget this crazy party. But I must get back to work. I’m a pizza delivery woman part time, and it’s time for me to move on. I must explore the metropolous and survive the wild hords of the urban dead. I can now say that you are not a slender man if you get my drift.
Have a good day, Tarzan.”
As she left at top speed, Tarzan smiled to himself. The road to life is a good road, he thought. One final thing for him to do was to go to work himself. Tarzan was a trucker, you see, and he definitely needed to swing by the UMart to purchase some gator aid. The allure of wanten cove will call again. Maybe next time, Tarzan will elect to bed super Liam. That would be fun. He would then be able to state he has answered the hero’s call. Comfortable that he was of sound mind, Tarzan set out on his next adventure to fayte. That adventure began with a game of golf.
That's all I could fit in on such short notice.