Squeezing Every Moment For All Its Juice

It was a picture post card day when the sunshine worth millions gave the coastal area a classic ending worthy of a romantic mature moment of conversation.

“I had a bold daddy,” she said, “he was an American Ninja who was told to go silently into the midst.”

“Why was that?” He said.

“It was the year of the kitten,” she said as the afternoon hour was getting late when she started to spin her tail, “and he was not pussy footing around due to the fact we were out of the money.”

Deep in the southeast there was a retired warrior sitting at the southernmost point in the United States with a bag of Anita Bryan’s finest melons, “Orange you glad I took you so you can’t elope,” the veteran stared at the fruit before shaking it down, “squeeze adios,” he said watching the juice say good bye to its body.

“Daddy you could have just used one of those Ninja sword things,” his daughter came out of the darkness into the light that was shining from the Red Crescent moon above in the sky.

“But that would not give me the proper juice for a drink with you,”

“Oh, that is all right,” she claimed, “I just bite into it and spit the seeds out.”

Hearing about that way of services the Father reached into his bag and pulled out a fresh one. Then with his ninja sword cut the melon in half and gave it to her with a smile.

“Here, you are my favorite kitten,” he said watching her small hand make a salute with honor knowing they were out of the money and this moment will be remembered forever.

“Yes, daddy,” she said putting her face into the melon in the same fashion of when her Mother puts her to bed.

With the darkness taking full control the guy admired the story he was told, “That is such a nice drama.”

“Yeah I got a nice hug out of it,” she said.

“Did juice come out?” He inquired.

“No, I was able to hold it in,” she maturely claimed, “strong bladder.”

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