The Saliva Project

I write today to tell a tale, about the mountain range called Hale. It was, as often can be seen a mix of features, thus a scene straight from the book of destiny this time it was all about me. I am, to introduce myself, a tiny creature, not an elf. I was created by the gods to ascertain why certain bods seem so adored by casual folk, let me proceed, this is no joke. To find the secret of the ages in human beings, fancy gauges are useless, it remains for me to sniff, to listen and to see. Thus, on the day that God forgot, I felt my earlobes getting hot. Assignment was to check in toto not climate change and things Kyoto but one complete and willing thing, this one was not a dingeling. Five toes and bones spread through the feet a lot of tendons yet to meet. And arches, hairless, looking weak I left and spotted one big cheek. This was a distance from the toes but sometimes an assignment goes astray a bit due to some factors like pheromones and bold detractors. I went, employing frantic speed from feet to buns and up, indeed soon all the features were quite clear I'd write about them, folks would hear the story as was known to nerds in super scientific words. I am no nerd, and thus I ventured, aware this project was not censored, I loved the fragrance and the taste and, even in this time of haste I knew that I had found my God, though it was ludicrous and odd. The hell with laws and with conventions, and rash, ulterior intentions, I did what any spirit, free, would do to be or not to be. I salivated, starting at the toes and their cutaneous fat. Then covered the delicious skin while wearing a contented grin. Much later I arrived and stared inside my head I then compared, but had to chuck my thoughts away good taste compelled my soul to stay. Needless to say I was dimissed, I had abandoned, even kissed a piece of work, the enemy they let me go, but I was free.