Stavanger Bay And all I am is all I could not mention

murgash hadn't been able to sleep, though not for want of trying. his skin crawled, itched and seized his mind, and in a howling fury the dark-cloaked male burst forth from his sculpted hole in the earth and threw himself on the ground in a frenzy. he rubbed his spine along the sand aggressively, grunting with each twist of his spine. his jaws, slack and floppy, nearly hit his eyes with each effort.

he wasn't aware there was company until he heard the breeze carry her voice to him -- immediately he sat upright, his front limbs propping him up in an absurd half-sitting, half-prone pose. there was a female, not too far away, who seemed to be talking to the waves. um, froooot-cake thought murgash inwardly, but then he realized something: the craziest ones were always the best in bed.

immediately he sat upright, shook the sand from what remained of his sparse patchwork pelt, and strode suavely towards the female. he pulled his ears back in a manner similar to a man combing his greasyed hair atop his shiny skull, and perversely the wolf inspected the wisp-wolf's frame hungrily. "o, 'ello there gorgjuss. wot's got ye up this foine mornin'?" he crooned, unaware of just how offensively gravelly his voice was. as far as murgash was concerned, he was motherflipping elvis presley and smoother than any swing king that ever walked the dance-floor -- and he expected the ladies to swoon at his feet, STAT.