Then, finally, they arrived.

+ it seemed like there were a billion things that we wanted and needed to talk about.

But for now, we just wriggled + writhed into each other's arms + legs + necks + faces + took to a shining forest, but only for a bit, because we needed to go straight to the pub to embark on some much bombing about to prais the blissful stretch of such anticipated time for the infinite frollockings that lay ahead, like some perfect wish that had come so overwhelmingly true, at last.

"G'on then, let's get in the nachos + the bombs*"

* = only explosive in the brain-over-stimulation sense