Dragon Bone High School
Her heart was aflutter, like a flock of butterflies fluttering.
Kytasha Y'n was crouched, bow-legged, in her kitchen as she reached down and began to stroke behind Bitems ear. Bitems began to mewl gruffly as she hit his sweet spot. Midaro had asked her out today. He was so dreamy and his eyes so swarthy and similar to the sheen of lite glimming off of polished onix. She was currently contemplating which stylish yet edgy dress she would wear for him tonight. Her first choice was a blood red affair that shimmered in the moonlight like the glinting fiery eyes of xanwolves in heat. It complimented the membranous leggings that pulled tightly across her supple, pale legs. The other dress was as black as deepest midnight and beneath it her skin shone like the harvest blue moon of a pale bitter winter. She realllllly liked the red one.
She waited until the bell stuck 9:00pm with bated breath. Once, twice, three times it rang. And then another six times, confirming it was, indeed, 9:00pm. She drifted down the stairs like a phantasm, an unearthly silhouette passed over the dimming flames of the family hearth. Reading in the corner was her father, who had reposed himself in the solace that was slumber in his aged Lay-Z-Boy. The voice of Sheldon, a character from her mother's favorite sitcom, the Big Bang Theorey, muted her footsteps and the click of her great and heavy front door. She was free.
Anxeen was cold in winter and the rain cascaded down from the heavens leaving bitter droplets to mingle with her night-black hair. A brisk wind enveloped her body and her nipples stood at attention like the Iron Spears of Cor Samerial Elementary. She saw in the distance the dim florescent lights of the Jack-In-The-Box and began to contemplate the delicious meal her proposed new man was about to acquiesce. Her stomach turned over itself as images of tacos and Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers winged their way into her heart and mind. Her black abyss of a soul yearned for tacos.
She pushed open the door with a screech that sounded like metal on glass. Her hair shimmered as she shook the rain from her locks and her hair fell volumously down her bare, lithe back. The wet red dress clung tightly to her ample bosom and defined her upright nipples. She blushed briefly but the thought of love and tacos sapped the fear and embarrassment from her face.
Suddenly a familiar voice rang across the room: "Yo, dawg. Dem fry-eezs bettah b tight-krispy. Ma bitch Hirana-ho don't play dat soggy shit."
Kytasha gasped.