Fredronica here to tell you that, well muffins, it's not your fault. Not your fault that you missed Fredrickville so. It's a lot like a pumpkin jacko-in-the-box. You put a candle in and you turn the crank, and out pops weasels EVERYWHERE. I'm afraid I may have accidentally gotten some literal in your metaphor. I'm sure it will wash off.
In honor of the style that is Fredrickville, and nothing less, I have a itch to scratch, and it lacks direction. I appreciate the kind words from everybody regarding my last post. But let's get that mushy crap off the home page, shall we? It stinks to high heavens here.
I've been asked, did I go all soft on you? And I want you to know, I'm not soft at all. I'm just one helluva good romance writer. And the guy with all abs just came in to explain you've had amnesia, and you've actually been in love this entire time. And you missed us. And you want naughty things. And we feel the same way.
Good lord, can we get a ridiculous picture up in here?
Thanks, much better. I'm so out, I'm back in. Hipsters don't think I'm hip, that's how ironically hip I really am. Learn to irony more than 2 levels, man. It's just turtles all the way.
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