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02/26/12(Sun)14:08 No.240000
File: 1330283299.jpg-(283 KB, 1357x718, Dastardly.jpg)
 Oh God. Oh dear Christ. Oh sweet Baby Jesus! It was finally here! It was finally freakin’ here! Soarin listened closely, his perked ear practically glued to the door. He carefully concentrated on the sound of the mailmare grumbling quietly outside about her apparently less than desirable job, before the much awaited sound of the mailbox being irately slammed back closed reached his ears. With an excited squeal much resembling a schoolfilly’s, he carefully cracked open the door just enough for him to peek his head out.
Skies clear? Check. No movement? Check. Planets aligned? Check.
It was go time.
Slinking his way out the door, Soarin checked his corners cautiously, as if he was about to be jumped at any second. His sky blue cloak engaged, he blended perfectly into the backdrop of the clear skies as he skulked his way to the mailbox. When he finally reached it, his anticipation was nearly driving him to insanity. It was so close, he could almost taste it. It was an acquired sense. Soarin reached out with a shaking hoof, licking his sweaty lips. With one last anxious breath, he grabbed the handle slowly, before yanking it open forcefully.
What lay there, was, in more ways than one, the Holy Grail of all magazines. In the Holy Grail of all editions. Soarin could almost swear that the dark compartment of the mailbox was glowing with the faint light of the sheer perfection of its contents.
>First 250 words. As you might be able to tell, I'm being a little bit more sarcastic on this one. |
