I could feel the sweat dripping off my brow as I locked eyes with my enemy. The final battle arrived and it was all or nothing. With my heart racing, I steadied my hands for the kill. 1 ...2 ...3 ! With split second instinct I chose Rock, he chose scissors. With a cry of victory on my lips, I looked down. There was my rock, quivering, holding a white flag. Nooooooooo, I cried! Why, why, why? Why would you give up I pleaded. I picked up my wuss of a rock and headed upstairs, destined to be the one to forever clean the cat box.
View on black or I will throw the wuss rock at you.
Our Daily Challenge: Rock, Paper, Scissors
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
The Rock Of Wussville
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