Here's a story of a boy (who grew up lost and lonely, thinking love was fairytale and trouble was made only for me. (ten points if you get this reference)).
All through the week, the boy had spent every available evening fixing a girl's car. He arrived at her house at 11 am on the Saturday morning, and worked almost solidly until 7 pm, until the car was healthy and well again. During this time, the girl had heard that one of her friends had been given a free box of doughnuts, and was very keen on test driving the car to the friends house to help her eat them.
The girl promised the boy that in return for the work that he had done, she would treat him to dinner. So they went to the friends house, and while the girl and the friend ate chili heatwave Doritos and babybel, the boy cooked the dinner. They ate the dinner on the floor and then ate a load of doughnuts, until they couldn't eat anymore.
That was when the girl and her friend decided to teach the boy how to dance. A few hours later, the boy had mastered the basic steps to 5,6,7,8! including dancing to the whole song ... twice.
Then the boy got home and realised what had happened, so he probably had to shave or lift weights or something to restore his sense of masculinity.
The end.
lessthanthree kiss
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