Splat, splat, splat. Hearing loud slapping sounds behind her, she was shaken from her reverie and turned around slowly. She knew exactly what the sound was. She had seen the guy around before, once at a gas station and once at the grocery store. He walked up to the far end of the empty bar perched on all fours, sticking and unsticking his feet from the floor, leaving a trail of wet, three-toed splats. She studied his enormous flat-backed, pot-bellied form, drenched in neon greens and oranges. She longed to know his name. She admired the long tongue shooting out of his mouth at lightspeed, sticking to the bar mix and flicking it back into his wide, wet-lipped mouth. She became aroused at the thought of his bright colors, drawing her ever closer with their signals of danger and poison. What would a kiss do to her? Would she begin to foam at the mouth and keel over in muscular paralysis?
alizahaskal
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