To The Flock Of Gentle Churchgoers
her sundress was a mass of wrinkles- inherited my family’s trime-traveling gene
- ripping my trousers, cutting my leg
- She spread out all her fingers
- “The hunchback must be mad too,” said the Curate.
To the flock of gentle churchgoers it must have seemed that Germaine and I appeared out of nowhere. There they were, listening to a sermon, when suddenly there we were, fornicating on the floor in front of the altar. It’s all on account of the fact that I inherited my family’s time-traveling gene. When we started, you see, the church had yet to be built.
As soon as we realized we had an audience, we stopped what we were doing. Germaine tried to cover herself, but her sundress was a mass of wrinkles. She spread out all her fingers to cover her naughty bits as best she could, ripping my trousers, cutting my leg in the process. The position we were trying out was called The Hunchback and it was rather complicated.
“I’m so mad at this interruption, Rufus!” cried Germaine.
“The Hunchback must be mad too,” said the Curate. He winked at us.
Who told him what it was called?