Memory # 7894...

Remember when I used to dress up as a 16th century prostitute and walk back and forth outside your kitchen window? Well walk no, strut yes. A prostitute, especially one from the 16th century, NEVER walks when they can strut.
It was cool how you'd sit there and paint, glasses pushed up on your nose, shooting me sidelong dirty glances out of the corner of your eye. Were you amused at my waddling around in thigh high pleather boots? Or was it the frilly white shirt with so many ruffles it HAD to be from the 16th century? Or maybe it wasn't even my get-up, as authentic as pleather thigh high boots are to the fine art of 6th century prostitution, perhaps it was because the only action I could score was from Big Louie. HA! What a quack.
Good Times Momma Bee, Good Times.

(Big Louie was a duck, may he rest in peace. The Don of the duck cartel that ran all the business in the yard)