I could hear the chaotic laughter trailing behind me. It turned the ageless trees into a menace. They loomed around me, while hiding him. The branches tore at my skin in an effort to bind me, while weeds sought to shackle my ankles, so that I could go no further. The pain they caused was minor, when I compared it to the searing inferno at my core.

There is a species of primate in South America more gregarious than most other mammals, with a curious behavior.The members of this species often gather in groups, large and small, and in the course of their mutual chattering , under a wide variety of circumstances, they are induced to engage in bouts of involuntary, convulsive respiration, a sort of loud, helpless, mutually reinforcing group panting that sometimes is so severe as to incapacitate them. Far from being aversive,however, these attacks seem to be sought out by most members of the species, some of whom even appear to be addicted to them....the species in Homo sapiens (which does indeed inhabit South America, among other places), and the behavior is laughter.

It felt terrific. It felt deeper and richer than laughter. It felt like opening a door and tumbling headfirst into a pile of feathers.

There is one kind of laugh that I always did recommend; it looks out of the eye first with a merry twinkle, then it creeps down on its hands and knees and plays around the mouth like a pretty moth around the blaze of a candle, then it steals over into the dimples of the cheeks and rides around in those whirlpools for a while, then it lights up the whole face like the mellow bloom on a damask rose, then it swims up on the air, with a peal as clear and as happy as a dinner-bell, then it goes back again on gold tiptoes like an angel out for an airing, and it lies down on its little bed of violets in the heart where it came from.

He stopped, finally, and smiled. __onestly? With this thing I think I could get my jerk-off muscles so well-developed that I could rub out a spooge with one pump! If that__ not worth $19.95, I don__ know what is.

Oh God. We__e talking about me being naked, in the shower with cooter cream. Please world, end. Kill me. __ know it__ not soap. I just_ if it__ scented_ I can__ do scented. Flowers and stuff like that. Fruit-flavored soaps make_ things_ burnish._ She could tell from the peeks at his face Mr. Fitzwell had never stepped foot in bath and lotion store, wanting to try the array of fun fragrances. Nor had he purchased Peppermint Candy shower gel, foamed up his nether regions, and felt like he had dipped them in lava. Dove crossed and uncrossed her legs at the memory. Mr. Fitzwell seemed concerned. __kay, just a heads-up. It__ definitely not good to put any fruits or plant life near your genitals._ He made a V with his hands and formed his own pretend vagina in front of his pants. Dove covered her eyes and tried to defend herself because now she could hear the sickly older woman beating her supporters with a purse. Dove__ mumbling got louder with her embarrassment. __ don__ put weird things down_ there. Just make sure that the cream__ vagina-scented. Just plain. For vaginas._ She kept her eyes on the counter.