Little bit hair covers his body as he walks huge around and takes. He takes like we all take, but he gives. Hairy on head-top of him, his limbs dart and one girl runs, flees every time from everything. He gives round things from up there, the stone up top where we walk and water runs. The round things he fills with stinking innards and eat comes. He doesn't lick, but is clean without hair. Stretch with him on the huge, soft, flat cushion six feet in the air. We climb when he climbs. Sleep there is soft. Gone now, he'll come back later.
Master of Pride, an Internet User Story