A small little drabble. I wrote it for BoB100 on Livejournal. But I thought I'd post it here also.
Three words, A WEBGOTT drabble.
Secretly, without any of the other men knowing, Webster used to sneak romance novels in his sack. He'd pull the stolen books out when he had time, reading trails of words as the truck would tropple down European roads. He'd always been fond of romance. He enjoyed singing love tunes in his head; catchy, sappy little songs tapping across the dance floor of his thoughts.
To Webster though, no love song or lengthy novel full of mush and imagery could be as good as hearing Joe Liebgott say, "I love ya." for the first time. Even if Joe's hard thrusting hips and dirty hands killed all signs of romance, Web was quite certain pants and moans formed tunes in his head and his thoughts still felt the tapping.