Oh... Crap.
Gargy, the adopted pet name for my gargoyle for those of you who may not be aware, just joined a Web site which, apparently, caters to our esteemed clientèle.
This unfortunately means he's now directly corresponding with perverts from around the world.
For those long time readers among you (mom), you well know that I cannot stomach any mention of sexual connections that aren't sanctioned by the Papal see. I, however, now have a reptilian squirrel sodomist who twists hemp AND actively sollicits clients by "chatting" with them. I stumbled upon his friends list and have found the most depraved, at first glance, group of people one could hope to couple with if one wished to be bolted to a harness and lashed with handmade leather implements.
(...of course, our good friend Master André is one of the eminent Canadian implement-makers AND he distributes our ropes, so I'll just shut the heck up right there. V., his wife, scares me. In a nice way).
Gargy is promoting the use of our ropes by the use of carnal photographs of the Crazy Ex in, what would seem, unfortunate situations. Her dark-skinned beauty apparently enjoys putting her in such situations with OUR ROPES (purchased, I assume, from the Marquise's boutique) and photographing her. How my blobby rodent-fucker got these pictures is a mystery.
...this does however explain the sticky puddles and the acceleration of hollow squirrel cadavers around the cottage. *sigh*
I now have to manage the company's new marketing efforts by having contact with those who are obviously condemned to eternal flaming damnation and protect the integrity of MY soul. This is NOT easy.
Of course, as loyal readers of our stories, if you wish to use our hemp in your venal games, we'd be more than happy to offer them to you in exchange for barges of cash. Capitalism always outweighs ethics (ah, the momories of my MBA ethics teacher and his winks at every case study. Good times).
Gargy thanks you. He also looks at your pictures and goes out squirrel hunting.
Friday, August 1, 2008
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