Congratulations on Spraying the Girl You Like With a Hose!

The girl you like will be walking down the street today while you’re watering the grass and you’ll consider spraying her with a hose.

In your mind she’ll take the spray of water giddily, laughing as it washes over her and scatters on to the ground, soaking her clothes and leaving her there, heaving and soaking yet somehow still nymphlike in her lithe, implied nudity. She’ll relish in her wetness for a moment before leaping on to you, tearing the hose from your grasp and spraying you with it in turn, soaking you to the bone before she turns her attentions to a more amorous kind and begins tearing you to pieces, running her teeth along your skin and ripping your clothes off shred by shred.

This vision of delight will convince you to spray her with a hose and let her have her way with you, so you’ll let fly with water, connecting with her chest and hair and inundating her with an unexpected stream of liquid.

“What the fuck!” she’ll cry, as water soaks her t-shirt and hair and leaves her looking less like a whimsical sex-fairy and more like a drowned rat.

“Fucking fucker!” she’ll shout at you, hefting a rock and throwing it at your head. It’ll connect with a solid thunk and send you tumbling to the ground, coughing and holding your temples. Then she’ll walk up and kick you in the nuts before tromping away, furious.

“What the fuck?” you’ll shout at your brain, which will by now be cackling at you giddily.

Congratulations on Spraying the Girl You Like With a Hose!