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I’m going to start this one off by saying, after years of fighting against it, I finally have a Twitter account: buy generic isotretinoin no prescription. Please follow me for all your shameless-pimping-of-this-blog needs!

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The people were going crazy for the song, but Legno was too young to grasp the humor of the raunchy ballad.

Although not as captivated by the song as the rest of the audience, he was still determined to see what exactly was going on. Not strong enough to push through and not tall enough to peer over, Legno had to resort to jumping up in the air to see what was happening.

Legno hopped desperately over the crowd; his pale, skinny calf muscles doing all they could to propel him as high as possible.

Each glimpse painted more of a picture:

*Hop* A long-haired man standing tall.

*Hop* A cross-shaped object in each of his hands.

*Hop* Another figure, smaller in stature, dancing to the minstrel’s song.

*Hop* A swath of golden blonde hair.

*Hop* Eyes as green as a meadow.

*Hop* Dark, caramel-colored skin.

*Hop* He was in love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His heart raced. His palms were sweaty. So utterly taken aback by this girl’s beauty, he could barely move. He had to wait until the crowd dispersed before seeing her again.

After what felt like an eternity, the performance ended.

“Thank you, thank you!” one man screamed, “Please, please, have no reservations about emptying your wallets as we have emptied our hearts! Thank you!”

A second man came around with a pail, hoping for some generous patrons to throw in spare change. After roughly three minutes, a few measly coins were lining the bottom of the pail, and the majority of the crowd retired back to their homes. Legno, more nervous than he had even been, reluctantly made his way forward. Part of him wished the crowd were still there so that he’d have an excuse to not approach her yet.

With all of his prior confidence long gone, and feeling like someone just kicked him in the stomach, Legno continued to inch forward.

There she was. Lean and fit and appearing to be roughly Legno’s age, she was even more beautiful than he had realized. But as he drew closer, he saw that she was in a lifeless, supine position next to the miniature stage where she performed.

“Can we help you, little guy?” a voice asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

Legno jolted back, startled. He had been too enamored to realize that there were two lanky gentlemen standing right there.

Immediately, Legno noticed the similarities between the two men. No, more than just similar…identical. Their long, stringy brown hair; their gaunt, unshaven faces; and their flowing green tunics. He was seeing double.

“Um…so she must be worn out from the performance, huh?” Legno replied, not quite answering the question.

The one man turned to the other, both confused, then looked back at Legno.

“…yeah, sure. I guess,” he replied. “So you liked the show?”

“I really couldn’t see what was going on. And I didn’t really understand the lyrics. If you’re hungry, why would you want a girl to spread her legs?”

After a few seconds of an unbearably awkward silence, the second man answered, “Yeah, the show isn’t really for kids. We usually tell parents that beforehand, but I guess yours wasn’t around…”

“Nah, I assume he’s passed out in his own filth by now,” Legno replied while turning his head to examine the area. “Anywho, what is all this exactly?”

“My brother here and I are traveling minstrels, the soon-to-be famous…”

At this point, the man stopped for a moment, hopped up on stage, threw out his arms, and finished, “GEMINI BROTHERS!”

“You’ll have to excuse him,” the other man sighed, “he’s a bit more theatrical than I am. I’m Giovanni; he’s Giuseppe. I play the fiddle, and he provides the vocals and movements for our lady Marion there.”

“…Marion…” Legno said to himself, “that’s the most beautiful name in the world.”

“It’s just a silly play on words since she’s a marion—”

“…Marion…” he repeated, utterly captivated.

“So kid, you never answered me,” Giuseppe said, hopping off the stage, “What can we help you with? You said you didn’t quite get the show, so…”

“I wanted to meet the girl!” Legno blurted out as if he didn’t say it quickly, he wasn’t going to say it at all.

The two brothers, again, shared a confused look.

“You…” started Giuseppe.

“…what?” finished Giovanni.

“Meet the girl…Marion. I want to hold her, kiss her, love her, marry her, raise a family with her, and then one day grow to resent her. Every little boy’s fantasy.”

Silence.

“Oh, and I guess we’ll get a Labrador at some point.”

“You want to meet…Marion?” Giuseppe asked, bewildered, “You know she’s a doll, right?”

“Oh man, is she ever,” Legno responded, his eyes wide as he stared at her motionless body. “Look at her there, sleeping like an angel.”

“No, kid,” Giovanni interjected, “she’s an actual doll. A marionette. She has strings attached.”

“What girl doesn’t? Amiright, fellas?”

Giuseppe smirked and turned to his brother, “He’s got ya there, Gio.”

TO BE CONTINUED


And with that, the second-to-last part of Act 1 wraps up. Find out next week if Legno’s able to convince the Geminis to let him date “Marion” and for the introduction of a new character in the Act 1 Finale of buy generic Proscalpin online no prescription.








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With misguided confidence and a self-satisfied grin on his face, Legno approached the first girl he laid eyes on: Gloria Pane, a local bread maker’s daughter, one year above him in school.

“Older woman,” Legno said to himself. “Jackpot.”

Legno, moving with a fluidity of an eel in treacherous waters, sidled up next to Gloria. Leaning in next to her, he stated in an awkward aloofness, “I could’ve sworn we were in Palermo, but it certainly looks like Cougar Town from where I’m standing.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Legno. What do you want?”

“Just to talk. I thought we could get to know each other. How’s your day so far?”

“It was fine,” Gloria said in an exasperated tone, “until some asshole tried hitting on me on my way home.”

Legno stood there, softly biting his bottom lip and nodding to himself. After a moment or two, he replied, “Okay, well we’re going to try this again. This time around, you’ll be playing the part of ‘Not a bitch.’ Sound good?”

Legno had always wondered what it was like to get slapped in the face.

Okay, moving on, Legno thought as he rubbed his cheek.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Diana Bontempo walking in to a nearby candy store. Wasting no time, he quickly followed her in, caring nothing for subtlety or tact.

As Diana picked a box of peppermint fudge off a shelf, Legno walked up, staring at her. She tried her hardest to ignore him.

“Good time,” Legno said, grinning like a goon.

“What?” Diana asked.

“Good time,” Legno repeated, still with that satisfied smile on his face.

Gloria turned her attention back to the chocolate, trying once again to ignore him.

“Bontempo. Bon means good and tempo time. Bontempo. Good time.”

“What’s your point?”

“Just wanted to see if you lived up to the name.”

Legno never wondered what it was like to get kicked in the testicles.

As he limped out of the candy store, he muttered “This day is horseshit” to himself. “All these girls think who the hell they—”

Suddenly, a thunderous roar of applause stopped Legno in his tracks. He couldn’t tell what exactly, but something was occurring at the other end of the street. A mass of people of all ages had gathered and were rambunctiously clapping and cheering. For what, he wasn’t quite sure.

Downcast and dejected, Legno half-heartedly made his way towards the crowd, hoping whatever it was would take some of the bite out of the awful morning he’d been having. As he drew closer, a sound pierced through the noise of the crowd. It was singing.

Oh, she loves to sing and she loves to dance/Buy her a drink and you can spank her ass!

A roar of laughter erupted from the crowd.

Flash her a smile and shoot her a wink/And then good sir, you’ll be seeing some pink!

The laughter continued, even louder this time.

If you need a snack then she’ll cook you eggs/And if none are left then she’ll spread her legs!


TO BE CONTINUED


That’s all for today! Come back next week (or so) to find out who exactly this girl is that these men are singing about, and more importantly, find out what Legno thinks of her. See you then (let’s hope) for Act 1, Part 4!







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“Where are you off to?” Saggezza asked, half-heartedly as Legno began heading out the door.

“Going in to town!” Legno responded in a loud, annoyingly peppy manner.

“For…?”

“Listen, Saggies…”

“Don’t ca—”

“…I’ve been thinking how it’s time for me to finally get out there. Be a man. Sow my wild oats.”

“You’re 11.”

“Yeah, and it’s also the 19th century. Isn’t the average lifespan, like, 14?”

Rubbing his temples and letting out a long sigh, Saggezza muttered, “If you’re going in to town, buy me a bottle of Campari.”

“Artichoke liquor? Yeah, I guess life in the Sicilian ghettos wasn’t bad enough.”

“You’re awfully precocious for a blockhead.”

Legno paused momentarily, not exactly certain of the words Saggezza used.

“Buh?”

“Never mind, Legno,” Saggezza said, sighing once more. “Hav…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Legno, with a pep in his step, grabbed his shoes and was out the door in a flash.

Saggezza, silently to himself, finished, “Have fun, son.”

Legno made his way out of the house in the outskirts of Palermo and in to the bustling metropolis itself. As he strutted down the cobblestone streets, he couldn’t help but catch his reflection in a store window and admire what he saw: Legno clocked in at a solid one and a quarter meters and thirty kilograms; his hair, curly and unkempt, was slowly being turned into an afro by the strong winds; his acne telling the tale that puberty was here, and that he was no longer a boy. Nay, he was less of a boy and more of a god.

Oh, yes. He was looking good.


TO BE CONTINUED


Thoughts? Like it more than the first part? Less? Comments are more than welcome. The next part will be up soon!







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Technically, this is the second request I’ve gotten, but the first request of “erotica” (you know who you are) seemed a little too risqué so early on. So in my attempt to teach myself basic Photoshop, I started with:

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Please don’t click on this image; the quality is much worse zoomed in.

Okay, the speech balloon doesn’t exactly match up, but I was very hungover (mom, hope you’re not reading this). Granted, it’s not the most spectacular piece of Phostoshopping you’ll ever see, but I have a bit of pride in it all the same.

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