Posted by celiapleete in rippingyarns | Comments

Sledding Towards Death.

We told Loretta that sledding down the Matterhorn in that rickety old thing that Marty Kelpman made in shop class was a bad f•••ing idea (especially because he only got a C- on it), but the stupid bitch wouldn’t listen. We think the overdose of Adderol had something to do with it.

The memorial service was lovely.

Posted by celiapleete in in the closet, rippingyarns | Comments

In A Pinch.

During the photo shoot, Bertram suddenly let out a ringing peal of girlish laughter – as that rascal Mark naughtily found his “sweet spot.”

Posted by celiapleete in I'm 12 years old and what is this?, fashion | Comments

Secrets and Lies.

Secrets flashed wordlessly between them. The school chastity ball brought forth a night of passion…forbidden by most cultures, yes, but not one without fire and raw lust. Chaperoned by him, seduced in a golf cart afterward. Oh, if only they could repeat that magical night, but all she could say to him was,

“Good morning, Mike…I mean, Mr. Hammond.”

“Good morning, Patti. I trust you did your…homework last night?” He coughed nervously. Mrs. Taylor was in the elevator.

“I did, sir. I did it all night.”

“Good girl.”

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Dark Secrets.

The Wilson siblings. Honors students. Scout leaders. Straight-edge Methodist kids. To look at them, you would think they were model American teenagers; wholesome, pure. Their fondness for snowshoeing was their sole eccentricity, at least on the surface. The truth was, Robbie was a coldblooded domestic animal torturer, and Kerry liked to be tied up and bitten. One day, a neglected bear trap near the family mountain cabin gave away their dark secrets, and the village was never the same.

Posted by celiapleete in adverts, rippingyarns | Comments

Plunging Necklines.

Mister Rogers cardigan? Check. Painting of Greta Garbo and a stogie? Check. The chest of a baboon waiting to be combed by that special someone? Double check. Just go to COX MOORE to find out all about the new look for the year.

Posted by celiapleete in adverts, fashion | Comments

Jumpsuits For Ah Men.

“Baby. We’re set for our sail. Are you ready to head out onto the waters? We’re people who make things happen. It’s choppy and wet out there. We need the protection of these terrycloth jumpsuits. No telling what’s waiting for us in the briny deep. But don’t get upset when I ask you to unzip me, baby. It’s been a long time since I’ve known the touch of a woman.”