Richard nodded. “He’s been trying to write poetry to it, I think, and has been doodling. See, look, those are little hearts.”
“No, they’re not,” Jeremy declared after a brief examination. “Richard, the Stig is not in love with the Koenigsegg. You can’t fall in love with a car.”
“You fell in love with that Veyron,” James said, taking the wad of rejected poetry.
“That was different! The Veyron was an amazing car, and there will never be another one like it ever, and it’s the best car of our time!”
“I bet you wrote poetry for the Veyron,” Richard replied. “And then threw it away because it was horribly bad and you didn’t want anyone to see it.”
“Either way,” Jeremy said loudly, “Stig is not in love with the Koenigsegg. He just likes it a lot. Perfectly natural.”
no subject
And maybe a little bit mine. BUT MOSTLY YOURS.
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Richard nodded. “He’s been trying to write poetry to it, I think, and has been doodling. See, look, those are little hearts.”
“No, they’re not,” Jeremy declared after a brief examination. “Richard, the Stig is not in love with the Koenigsegg. You can’t fall in love with a car.”
“You fell in love with that Veyron,” James said, taking the wad of rejected poetry.
“That was different! The Veyron was an amazing car, and there will never be another one like it ever, and it’s the best car of our time!”
“I bet you wrote poetry for the Veyron,” Richard replied. “And then threw it away because it was horribly bad and you didn’t want anyone to see it.”
“Either way,” Jeremy said loudly, “Stig is not in love with the Koenigsegg. He just likes it a lot. Perfectly natural.”