Marijuana.

He'll just never die. The striped gray zorse with the green feathers is infinite like that ole coot Texas or cranky-pants Prague. Shit...almost even Carnage. Mari snorts an invisible exclamation to this statement. Even as he has aged and his skin having lightened to a fetching porcelain gray.

Long limbs move the muscular form in a nonchalant manner, dark eyes rolling over the equines that meandered about. He doesn't give much care to letting his eyes trace over the lovely forms of fawning women. Their heat is thick in the air and maybe...just maybe, it puts a little extra pep in his step! Ha!


In a circle of warm bleaching sunlight does the tall male end his little sashay. Emerald appendages lift, stretch and shake as they loosen from their normal nestled perch upon the strong spine. The chiseled skull moves to preen his handsome form, standing a little taller, feeling like his usual sexpot self. A few of the green tinted feathers fall away and catch a soft breeze to drift off lazily.

Yea, he's still got it. Still cooler than the other side of the pillow.

Oh, sweet Marijuana. So easy and reliable...

And you know you'll always have a good time with him.