It is as this title says. I AM feeling creative and wordy.

Any moment now, i expect wild spurts of wordiness to come flying out of my mouth in a non-vomitous slew of craziness and elegant speechhood.

Yes sir, any moment.... the words... they're coming...

Yep. Any second...

Ok. Fine. I am willing to admit defeat. My words are not, apparently, going to make an appearance. I had hoped... and will continue to hope... that suddenly, in a flash of coolness and general brilliant-esque behavior... From my lips and larynx's combined efforts via my fingertips... Words will come.

They will splash out and rumpus throughout the town, making sure to leave their mark and effect on all balding passerbys. They won't bother with hairy people, seeing as they are much too fuzz covered to have any need for a vivacious stampede of verbal communication and phrasing.

Which, in the end, is rather sad. One should hope that eventually we will live in a time where balding folks receive the same treatment and mockery as the fuzzly inclined. Cause... hairy people... they just can't help it, can they?

As little embryo-types, when all of their genes were sorting things out, the HAIRY BEAST gene might've gotten bopped on the head (little bunny foo foo style) and thus be incapable of controlling themselves... resulting in a wild growth of fur... or a sensationally minimal amount.

Alack the day, for we shall never know.

Anyways. My fingers are getting grouchy and tired. I know longer feel compelled to write things, and this is mostly due to my middle-finger of my right hand. I am fairly positive that if it could speak, my darling finger would by vociferously shouting it out with me... most likely using inappropriate phrases such as "deranged whore-muffiny chamomile stick" and so on and so forth. I honestly don't know where my finger's imagined mouth became so incredibly dirty and rude... but i intend to find out. Super sleuth style.

As for now... I'll take my leave and go sit in some corner to contemplate things. Things such as gymnastics. Gymnastics and pantsuits. Yes. This is a good plan.

Goodbye now...

CAST OF CHARACTERS: Owl John (OJ), Chase (Chaser), lil James (OJ's brother), Adelie (good friend), Emily (me), and Promiscuous Neighbors (the people who live in the house across the street from Adelie)

SETTING: The road to Adelie's House & Adelie's drive-way

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Roughly two nights ago, I journeyed over to my dear friend Owl John's house. His true name is John... but he looks rather Owly, and has been named thus. Already at the house of OJ was our slightly unbalanced friend, Chase.

After sitting around for a little while, myself, OJ, Chase, and Owl John's little brother (James, 7 years of age) decided to go visit our friend, Adelie, who lived about a quater mile away. Just to give our adventure that extra jazziness it so desperately needed, we rode horses there.

Well. Not REAL horses. We each rode on those wooden sticks with the furry horse heads attached. Chase was in charge of making the galloping noises by whacking his cell phone whenever we pranced. It was excellent.

Anywho... we rode our ponies down to Adelie's house, and made small talk with all the passing dog-walkers. It was about 9 pm, and they were all very supportive of our choice in mobility.

We reached Adelie's, and called her to come outside. We stood chattering in the drive way for a couple minutes... until THEY came.

What appeared to be an ordinary American couple pulled up into the driveway across the street. They hurriedly got out of the car and rushed into the house. We, lovely people that we are, thought nothing of it and continued our chatter.

BUT THEN... the light of their upstairs window flickered on. We heard a shrill woman's voice yell, "Come and get it, bad boy!" followed by what I assume she thought was a seductive whoop.

Almost as one, all of us standing in the driveway of Adelie's house turned to face the window across the street. There were no curtains to hide the ghastly scene that awaited us. Yes. The neighbors from across the street were getting frisky.

Because of the distance, all that we saw was two great lumps of pale flesh moving towards eachother... and then away. Then towards. Then away.

It was at this point that we pushed ourselves up against the garage door of Adelie's house and determinedly looked away from the house across the street. We were in a state of shocked silence.

Old people! Doing it! AAaaAAAAAAaaaaaaaahhhhHHHHH!!!!

Sadly, things only got worse. Though we were doing our best to be absolutely still and silent while the neighbors made clear their passions... what came next took things to a whole new level of absurdity. One of the stick-ponies we had ridden down began to whinny and nicker. It obviously had something mechanical in it that was programmed to sound like a REAL horse.

And then... horror of horrors... it began to sing. You know that one song? The riding song? Da-da-da-duna-da-duna-da-da-dum! DUNA-da-duna-da-duna-da-dim-num! DUUUUUM, duna da-da-DUM!

It went on for a full minute.

We honestly could NOT speak. The song... in combination with the moaning and groanings coming from across the way... It was too much. I collapsed against Chase in a fit of giggles. Too. Much. Hilarity.

It was like being locked in one of those hilariously odd English comedies. Soooo bizarre, but you cannot stop yourself from watching.

At long last the sounds of lust stopped emitting out the window. Chase, in an attempt at bravery, stuck his head out to check if the coast was clear.

It wasn't.

The friskiness of the couple had NOT abated, and they had moved off the bed to press themselves up against the window. Our horror knew no bounds. We tried to huddle the darling James (STILL 7 years of age!) against us, but this just resulted in setting the horse off again.

Owl John threw it across the driveway into a bush. He has always been a clever boy.

After a minute or so had gone by, Adelie shut her eyes and ran inside to get her

Just watch.