"Oh oh, so am I, pretty - hic - nymph!" Though, to be fair, Earl's god of love and sex is very, very different from Phoebe's. Like... Really. A lot.
We're Earl any less drunk he might have pointed out that touching people is exactly what the god of love and sex would be happy with, but instead he simple grins because h has thoroughly misunderstood and believes the blonde to herself be a love nymph. As Phoebe instructs Earl to handle the monster, the satyr leers in obvious delight, bringing his rank face appalling close to the midwife's. "And then you'll take care of me, pretty nymph."
There is a beautiful, majestic moment, the type that might be seen in an action movie. To Wessex and Phoebe it will feel like slow motion as th drunken satyr charges the demogorgon, fat rolls and dick bouncing with each step, a battle bleat pealing from his lips. What beauty. What grace.
What a splat.
The satyr and the demogorgon meet in a beautiful display of muscle and adipose, slamming squarely into one another and beginning to wrestle. By some miracle Earl appears to be an exact match for the monster in terms of attack strength. Wild.
Wessex, meanwhile, has managed to crack the door enough that she can probably squeeze through. It's impossible to tell what's on the other side, though. What will you do?
We're Earl any less drunk he might have pointed out that touching people is exactly what the god of love and sex would be happy with, but instead he simple grins because h has thoroughly misunderstood and believes the blonde to herself be a love nymph. As Phoebe instructs Earl to handle the monster, the satyr leers in obvious delight, bringing his rank face appalling close to the midwife's. "And then you'll take care of me, pretty nymph."
There is a beautiful, majestic moment, the type that might be seen in an action movie. To Wessex and Phoebe it will feel like slow motion as th drunken satyr charges the demogorgon, fat rolls and dick bouncing with each step, a battle bleat pealing from his lips. What beauty. What grace.
What a splat.
The satyr and the demogorgon meet in a beautiful display of muscle and adipose, slamming squarely into one another and beginning to wrestle. By some miracle Earl appears to be an exact match for the monster in terms of attack strength. Wild.
Wessex, meanwhile, has managed to crack the door enough that she can probably squeeze through. It's impossible to tell what's on the other side, though. What will you do?
