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castor sacs
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7,092 Posts
I knew it was love at first sight.

It was an ordinary thursday night, and my mother was cooking dinner at the usual 5 o clock time. Meanwhile, I was in my bedroom, staring a hole into my math homework. Numbers are already difficult enough to deal with, so how could I possibly concentrate on the pythagorean theorem with the aroma of cheesy, gooey scrambled eggs wafting in through my bedroom door? Traveling on the scent of delicious food and the incessant grumbling of my stomach, I entered the kitchen and sat down at the counter adjacent the stove, where my mum was finishing up.

What I saw next, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was a sleek, stainless steel frying pan. It was not like the others -- marred with scrapes and charred metal, rusted and gnarled warps across its boiling surface. No, it was flawlessly smooth. Thin oil spread about its body; cheesy, fluffy eggs mounted atop, drool slipping from my lips at the fantasy of taking their supple forms into my mouth; slender handle protruding handsomely from its side.

From that day on, I knew I was a pansexual....though unfortunately, it was never meant to be. You see, this world quite frowns upon the union of frying pan and **** sapien sapiens -- or at least, the region from which I hail does. I hope one day that the world can overcome its prejudices, instate full marriage equality, and finally accept pansexuality as a valid orientation, preference, and pure form of love.

Until then....I shall think of you always, my dearest pan.
 

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Persona Non Grata
Joined
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2,009 Posts
I knew it was love at first sight.

It was an ordinary thursday night, and my mother was cooking dinner at the usual 5 o clock time. Meanwhile, I was in my bedroom, staring a hole into my math homework. Numbers are already difficult enough to deal with, so how could I possibly concentrate on the pythagorean theorem with the aroma of cheesy, gooey scrambled eggs wafting in through my bedroom door? Traveling on the scent of delicious food and the incessant grumbling of my stomach, I entered the kitchen and sat down at the counter adjacent the stove, where my mum was finishing up.

What I saw next, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was a sleek, stainless steel frying pan. It was not like the others -- marred with scrapes and charred metal, rusted and gnarled warps across its boiling surface. No, it was flawlessly smooth. Thin oil spread about its body; cheesy, fluffy eggs mounted atop, drool slipping from my lips at the fantasy of taking their supple forms into my mouth; slender handle protruding handsomely from its side.

From that day on, I knew I was a pansexual....though unfortunately, it was never meant to be. You see, this world quite frowns upon the union of frying pan and **** sapien sapiens -- or at least, the region from which I hail does. I hope one day that the world can overcome its prejudices, instate full marriage equality, and finally accept pansexuality as a valid orientation, preference, and pure form of love.

Until then....I shall think of you always, my dearest pan.
I snorted my coffee, and now my pants have a crotch stain. It was worth it.
 
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