Why things don’t work out.

Why things don’t work out.

“I’ll give you want you want the most,” she moaned huskily to the Time Lord, narrowing her violet eyes and unbuttoning the top two buttons of her tight blouse, revealing her ample chest.

“Excellent,” he intoned, pulling out a dataPADD that had a 20 digit number glowing on its screen.

She stuttered. “Wh-what?" she asked, confused.

“Eh?” the Time Lord replied in confusion. “It’s an account number. You weren’t going to give me twenty million dollars?"

"N-no,” she repiied weakly, putting the boobs away. “No, I.. I wasn’t going to give you twenty million dollars.”

They both sat there staring at each other, profoundly dissatisfied. 

Paisley P. Peinforte

About Paisley P. Peinforte

Having successfully invaded both America and Canada from her home base in Windsor, Paisley has become horribly corrupted by the world. She hates active voice and wishes to god Twitter had an edit button. Dedicated to "creating the greatest 'Ship of them all", she ponders horribly terrible, idiotic things for your amusement.


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~explanation~

I'm a snarky, semi-horrible human being given to penning intentionally bad epic slashfiction involving improbable objects and individuals, with the ultimate ambition of befouling Kindle with it one day,which is ostensibly what this blog is for.

In practice, however, it tends to mainly be a circular file for my various thoughts and ideas, some whimsical and others not, in addition to my various Photoshop experiments, mainly collections of what I generate for Twitter.