Pretty much on the inside of his mouth, sometimes a finger or forearm.
Fred has a tongue. It's used.
.........................................................used at least
She likes to watch him. Sometimes she wonders about Fred's sanity. But it doesn't really matter, as long as he's laughing. He laughs when others cry, and he laughs when he's injured. Oliva likes to watch him laugh.........................
The couch felt odd to Fred's head. "Fred's head? Why did you say that, my dear friend?"
"Did I say something? Maybe you were hearing things?"
The situation was becoming pressing. Oliva walked out of the room with a murmur.
Unlunged and bathed face first in the afterfire, Fred postclipped toward the shiny clearing. Sometime later in lifeless penury, he was affronted by a sortie. It was all because of his inability to forfeit completely. His hearts all coughed up more life and he was heard cursing, "Pardy! Pardeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" His illusionary clown face was applied. The farding commenced with a puff of white so intense that it kicked up enough attention to make him well-off. So much showbiz that he fell on good times like a walrus misplaced in a world of ice, like a red tin firetruck careening out of control toward a disaster, like a submarine going beep beep in a dark well of unintelligible corporal ..............................
..............................
Side-mouse glances from random voyeur-bean Ray Ban heads cause his tongue to retract in a snail retreat. Alien beams lick his countenance in the peak lick performance. Fred had been abducted as a child, taught philosophy of self-preservation and hygiene, instilled with a persistent high pitched voicing of words, and put back in his normal house. He make believes that he was abused in order to feel better about his oral fixation.
Most people don't know what it means to drool in public.
Fred does... he does it because he's got an excuse handy.
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