Dear Feudal Lord,
Forget seduction—I’m having trouble even meeting girls. Like, I can’t even get to the launch pad. Liftoff? Please, I should be so lucky.
Thing is, I see girls everywhere. Seems I can’t swing a dead cat around here without hitting one of them. I just can’t talk to them.
Got any hot tips? I need a pick-up line—or at least a way to break the ice. As it is, I can barely stand to form a complete sentence around a girl I find moderately attractive.
Help Me!
—Trouble in Tinseltown
##
My Dearest Lord Tinseltown:
Be not afraid, rogue, of yonder loose women or common consort! Rather, thee must muster ye wits about thee and tally-ho! Difficult it may sound, easy may it be wrought, if thee gives thee enough time to gestate.
I recollect back to my time in the service of my father, thy lord of yesteryear. He commanded that I lay siege to a Lord in county yonder. Lest I prove the coward, I mounted my horse and led my men forth, leading many a great Knight and common soldier along the solemn warpath that blooms skyward from the roots of manly passion. ‘Twas but a small village, modest in people and economie and all manner of useful resource, but nonetheless I feared death and was soon shaking in my pantaloons.
But yonder ho! A most beautiful maiden! I spied her over distant screen, bathing in a tub of warm water, clear as crystal. Her gargantuan bazoombas glistened in the light of the gentle forenoon and I felt myself to be made most aroused. I covered my sausage-piece with my scabbard, lest my pantaloons give the true intention of my lustful loins away. It was then that I was endowed with a certain courage. In steady swoops of attack, I besieged and defeated the enemie, nearly albeit single-handed.
I took my maiden away into the smoldering ruins of a peasant house and made sweet love to her, releasing my loins upon her, the sweat of battle and the sweat of passion fusing as one. Lo, what victory! What tremendous release of lust!
Do as I did, tender Tinseltown—besiege with scabbard and heavy club and tally-ho! For thou art young and thy loins be yet not caressed by tender woman-flesh!
Salutations and Godspeed,
—Feudal Lord
No comments:
Post a Comment