The Sugardaddy on the rocks was hardly a pretty sight. The gray ghost of Disney High School's haunted mansion had carted it over with his gothic special brand of sharpie art-calligraphy 101. Matthew was pleased with his work when he left. Maybe there were even two simultaneous rainbows in his Dracula loving mind; what does it mean?
While our gladiator on the other hand, with his golden armor sculpted self-satisfaction, eyed the creation the way Frankenstein did before the abomination awoke -- equal parts adoring wonder and likewise curious disbelief. Ice and caramel with chocolate sprinkles didn't really translate well into what he would label in American English as 'pretty.' It looked like cyclop's shit.
"If you suppose that, you're supposing wrong, because you don't owe me anything." the spoiled child in his heart destroyed the brown-sugary landscape of frosting on his piece of chocolate cake with a finger unable to resist the temptation. "The best way to rid oneself of a temptation is to yield to it," he explained. "And frosting is something constantly begging to be touched and disrupted." the topping was purloined with a round off of his lips, press of finger, and swipe of his tongue. It also left a nice Halloween witch's blackout on one of his front teeth.