ladies call me Subway cuz I've got low quality meat and lie about being 6 inches; any

[A Tree]

She was so elated!

 

He didn’t ignore her!

 

In fact, was it true? It was! He actually honest to goodness smiled at her!

 

A great, big ole grin too.

Like this (but with horse teeth and horse eyes and horse nostrils):

 

“He likes me, he likes me, he likes me!” she shrieked to herself internally.

 

But she is a well-brought up lady and therefore, must maintain her calm, collected, poised, elegant, eloquent, beautiful, caring, intelligent, skilled, capable, and everything-else-a-lady-should-be exterior. Otherwise, she’d be too easy a game for him and he’d go find some other harder-to-get tree to hug. (Wow, us women and us women-trees do have it tough.)

 

Speaking of that, should she play hard to get? That has the highest success rate, right?

 

No. Wait.

 

It’s too late. Crap. She already greeted him.

 

(And my, did he look absolutely dashing in those emerald jewels she bestowed him!)

 

“Satty, dahling, a pleasurah,” she lovingly cooed, in what I would imagine was the worst attempt possible at being a southern belle. “I am Isabella Cornelia Josephine Elizabeth Buttercup the Fourth. You may call me Buttah.”

 

But she was a tree.

 

So what came out was actually more like “rustle rustle rustle rustle rustle rustle rustle rustle rustle rustle”

 

Ugh #treelife #useless #translatorplease #newappidea #shewantsroyalties