PARLAY
YOU lost! No. YOU lost! No.
Conscience and Instinct together chose Survival.
They tried loving without conditions: failure.
I played the tapes. He surrendered.
“I said parley not parsley!” Shootout.
Parley? Wish I had spinach instead.
We sat, glared, wrangled, shook hands.
Parlez-vous anglais? Oops wrong parley.
Flee, don’t parley with the devil!
She walked head high; dialogue complete.
They met to discuss. One Returned.
Sitting across table With hidden swords
Shit!, I thought I am SURRENDERING!
The dead heart duped the garland!
Winning or losing, what’s the difference?
She lost the argument. He surrendered.
Pipe of peace. Our country now!
That is just not acceptable, sir!
I had only one choice, fight.
Here’s the deal, you clowns.
The terms were simple…complete surrender.
“Ten?” “Twenty.” “Fifteen?” “Eighteen.” “Sixteen?” “Deal!”
Lengthy negotiations eventually resolved their conflicts.
Fun. It isn’t normal, is it?
“I like boys!”, or do I?
It’s a win-win for both
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