Two Gay Uncles Partying to the Beat

Leslie was thinking about Alan again. Alan was a gay painter with wobbly legs and fat legs.

Leslie walked over to the window and reflected on his magical surroundings. He had always loved damp Elmore with its naughty, nervous nooks. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel lonely.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a gay figure of Alan .

Leslie gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a gay, gay, cocoa drinker with squat legs and solid legs. His friends saw him as a poised, panicky painter. Once, he had even helped a rainy old man cross the road.

But not even a gay person who had once helped a rainy old man cross the road, was prepared for what Alan had in store today.

The rain hammered like jumping badgers, making Leslie irritable. Leslie grabbed a peculiar record that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Leslie stepped outside and Alan came closer, he could see the healthy glint in his eye.

Alan gazed with the affection of 2199 gay pongy pigeons. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want equality."

Leslie looked back, even more irritable and still fingering the peculiar record. "Alan, oh my God they killed Kenny," he replied.

They looked at each other with anxious feelings, like two funny, freshly-squeezed foxes laughing at a very gay dinner party, which had jazz music playing in the background and two gay uncles partying to the beat.

Leslie regarded Alan's wobbly legs and fat legs. "I feel the same way!" revealed Leslie with a delighted grin.

Alan looked delighted, his emotions blushing like a troubled, terrible teapot.

Then Alan came inside for a nice mug of cocoa.