The World Vs Richard Young

Andrew was standing in a fairly strange lopsided way that only he could really stand at, having the advantage of left-to-right leg length ratios being perfectly articulated for this sort of stance, his friends all referred to this specific 'stance' if it would be called one, which it wouldnt, it personally preferred the french version much nicer, for this stance was one much more aristocratic than other regular stances such as 'the regular', 'the flamingo (right foot up, left foot down)', 'the reverse flamingo (right foot down, left foot up)', and the reverse regular, who was a little pompous but still looked silly enough to never get any respect, which was referred to by his friends as 'the andrew stance' or 'tas' for short. Andrew was currently in the process of counting the skin cells located upon his girlfriends face with his more-acute-than-the-average-eye-eyeballs. he was at something around 2153 when she sneezed. "of course. fuck." he said aloud and was preparing himself to start again, she of course, was looking deeply into his eyes for this whole time and had only paused in the staring to turn away to keep soaring strings of mucas from attaching themselves to her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriends earlobes and eyelashes. when she asked 'whats wrong?' (an appropriate response to such a rude comment on his part) he explained to her what he was doing, and she was instantly struck with an extreme sensation to pull a stance-to-move combo of her own that she had perfected, the slap'n'turn, which finalizes with her never calling this dirtbag ever again, for she was thinking the whole time previous to both the sneeze and rude comment that he was indeed staring back at her eyes and was attempting to create what some scientists have called 'the holy moment' while others called it 'falling asleep with eyes open' and even more calling it 'staring contest'. She pitched the fierce eyebrows and bit-bottom lip, struck fierce, spun around with such ferocity that her ponytail slapped Andrew just under the nose (approximately 365 strands of hair struck his face by his count, which he would agree later was perhaps a very ironic number of hair with its close encounter the the days of the year, but then dismissing it as that it was a leap year.) she walked away, and Andrew looked at the ground he stood on in what any onlookers would agree was sorrow. In truth, Andrew was simply counting the rocks in the alleyway.