WB

Welcome back: We're beginning to think this is a trend – who bothered to start such a thing, I wonder? Well, bottles of Jack may have the answer. Wobble back and forth, asking the bottle with a slurp and a gulp. Won't be long now until we get somewhere.

Wishes better be taken seriously, you know how people get. We bang and clang against the doors when we don't get our way. Wishes, brother, y'know? Wishes bought us many great things, made us richest.

Willow beckoned us back into the bedroom. “Won't Betsy stop yammering about wishes?” Willow begged. We beck and call her every night on the telephone, knowing that she likes our moans. We bellow out an orgasmic sound, worthy (of) being operatic.

Wet booties, wetter fronts. We're back to being quiet on the western front. We bought ourselves a fortune in love just by having a vague sense of technique. Winds bicker back and forth, sends shivers in the bedroom that our 'technique' was meant to bring. Willow buried herself inside, waiting by and by.

We boasted that no wind would ever best us. “What benefits could such a draft bring?” We belt and laugh with boldness, Willow bringing her laughter as well. We brightened.

Wicked bellies feast upon our lies as we lie in bed that night. Worlds bend, our minds as well; we break in our sleep, as others knew what we did. Who brings such misery? Who brings the right mind to the table? We broke ourselves sleeping, those wicked bellies feasting. Wit blends with pig fat.

Wyatt Burns, the portly pirate. We better run come morning, as he draws near. West; better fruits to chew upon, not where Burns lies. We burn if we stay, so please, wind and Willow, grab your bags. Wood burns tonight, we brought ourselves into the woods, camping away for safety.

Warts brew. Witches brew potions that give us warty backs. Warbled backs will be a minor delay, but not a major downfall. What better way to spit in the face of the gods than to say “not today?”

White bags under our eyes. White bags indicating a long previous night. White bags are what carries our belongings. We be wary of the next village, town, city, whatever be on the other side of these woods. Washed bloomers hanging along a thread, laundry being done. “We'll be ready soon!”

Windows bolted shut. Warrants brought for our arrest, sent out by none other than the criminal. Wyatt Burns himself, in the flesh, who else? Who brings more pain than the belly of the beast? White beast known as Wyatt Burns roams around the town. Wishing better get us somewhere soon.

We've been here two days now; Willow's buzzed, blame the bottles resting on the floor. Will bottles bring us any happiness, relief, escape? Walk by, nothing to see here. Walk by, we're not where you're looking, instead residing in a bedroom underneath a secret hatch. Was bridge ever a hard game?

Wooden bedposts, wet between the inner thighs. Wistfully brushing our bodies side by side. Washing bare arms and legs. War blooms soon, but for now only we bloom here.

War bloomed; We bolted, war horses charged at every door in the court of our town. Western Boredom, they call it. What better name to have called it considering what is to come? Winter blessed us with warm tidings, not today, but yesteryear. Whacked backside the head, back with an arrow.

What brought us here was love and lust, but now one of us is lying wet, not erotic, but bloody.

“Wait, Betsy!” Willow bemoaned. Wise Betsy was hit, but not done. Why bother lying down when there was so much more to love? What boring, tired, tropes Wise Betsy would not stand for.

Wisdom bears many fruits. We've been buried deep in miracles. Wisdom being one of them. Witness, bears! White bears in the distance! Wyatt Burns better think twice, now! White bears charge toward Wyatt Burns, just as Wise Betsy rises up and plucks the arrow out from the back of her head, rising up and declaring “we're better!”

Wake Bernie up. We better tell them the news. What better way to wake up than to hear that Wise Betsy rises up again, hand in hand with Willow Bertram – naked, proud, and true.

Weather beguiles us to bring our best to each fight. Wyatt Burns may have been frightened, but not scared off. Wanna bet that Wyatt Burns will come back? We bet that Wyatt Burns is already on his way back to town.

Western Boredom, they call it. What birthed a revolution will spark an orgy. Wonderful breads be a plenty these days, thanks to Wise Betsy and Willow Bertram. Wet Booty Willow, they'll call her. We best look to the sky these days, as that has more of the answers.

Walls break, ever so frail these days. Walls built to keep away none other than you know who. Wyatt Burns, they'll say, and you'll be right to say. Wyatt Burns returns, to reclaim. “Wondrous boulders!” He'll proclaim. We believe he means breasts. Wide breasts (large). Wyatt Burns has always wanted.

Wanted, breasts by the dozen. What bare breasts does Wyatt Burns so desire? We both share worries, shaking our heads hoping it's not Willow's.

While Betsy may have been keen and cunning, she could not have seen such a return of someone so ferocious. Wyatt Burns stomps throughout the town. Wild beast demanding breasts. White, brown, whether black or tan, it doesn't matter to this man.

Watch Betsy, please. Wise Betty has aged, like good cheese (sitting for ages, considering safety). Willow brushes aside such notions and rises to the occasion. While brothers may have witnessed, let me reiterate: Willow brought a spear launched toward Wyatt Burns and with a new ferocity brought forth a tremendous roar, all the wildlife breaking away at such a sound that meant one thing:

“Welcome back!”