Twas a dark and gloomy morning on the date that you don’t give a shit about. A young genius named Erwin awoke from his slumber. There was a knocking on the door.
“OH. oh. OH,” he said, “Thou may come in!”
A young man with the name that sounds like the noise you make before you flatulence added with the word ‘win’, entered the room. Basically, his name was also Erwin. He was for some reason shirtless. Must of been that contract he had with Jacob Black, due to their little pesky secret of being werewolves.
“Greetings, Sir Erwin.” Erwin lifted his
two arm s and a voice of angels was heard in the distance.
“Hello, oh so fairest one.” he replied.
“Shall we have thy morning puck?” he said with a witty smile.
He chased over to the bed stick and then did a small plié.
He quoted, “My heart, it pines, as my trouser’s tent.”
A kiss was placed on each others soft lips. Birds sang outside the castle. The sun arose and light was shone across the horizon.