Stairwell Aficionado
Oh boy, this week's stairwell was quite the treat. I drove to the capitol and tried my best not to look like a terrorist or think terrorist thoughts just in case the politicians were telepathic. I wasn't tackled by security, but I'm still not convinced they're not.
I paid for a parking permit by engaging my debit card in the second most awkward robot-man intercourse event I've been a part of. But paying a meager $2.00 today, it was by far the cheaper activity of the two. Upon opening one of many doors, I broke on through to the other side which was a beautiful marble everything. It was all marble. From the windows to the walls, to the sweat-dripped bathroom stalls. The tour guide was an actual marble golem in a bow tie who had the most wonderful accent. So the stairs, naturally, were marble as well. And, just as naturally, I got down on all fours like the pope, stuck my booty in the air, and gave that stair a stare (with my tongue). You know when you're on a first date, and the other person reaches for the bill? It was like that. 5/5. Clean/no residue. It was so smooth going down that I must compare it to something only my fellow democrats know of: the aged baby's blood in that golden chalice that gets passed around at meetings. You know the one.
After my make-out sesh, I oo'ed and ahh'd at the structures to blend in with the tourist populace. I grabbed a brochure written in Russian and proceeded to spend 13 seconds on pronouncing a single word, fooling everyone and losing the heat from the security team of psychic Pokemon that were probing my brain. Nyet today, mother lubbers. Nyet today.
I changed my route and found a gorgeous stairwell with multiple floors and multiple steps to my heart. I took it all in like every breath could be my last. Security found me some time later hyperventilating and soaked in my own urine. I should probably wrap this up and change my clothes. Thank you for the read. And remember, I lick stairs so you don't have to.
