"You can't tell how deep a puddle is until you step in it." ~ Unknown

Name today:  Pleasantries

Today I get to:  Write letters to loved ones and send them out snail mail.

Aha-phrodisiac:

"Every path has its puddle."

Write a piece that has "puddle" and a bunch of other "p" words in it.

On the way to Publix to pick up items in the produce section, including papayas, pineapples and pears, we passed an old poster of Prince in his prime and pondered what he was doing now. Pam then pleaded we take the private road to pass by her boyfriend's place, who I find to be a pompous prick with a pugnacious disposition.  But then we got sidetracked by a sign in the form of a printed paw pointing the way to what looked like a palace. As we pulled in and parked next to the Porsche, we saw the entire area packed with people.

Neither of us prudent and both prone to prowl for pleasure, we proceeded toward what appeared to be a phenomenal party, but we had to make sure we primped to look our prettiest. A quick perusal of my reflection revealed perfectly plump and pouty lips. We overstepped puddles and tried to blend in and pretend we were on the invite list. We passed a person wearing polka-dotted pants and a pink and purple blouse.

We then overheard a poor wretch preaching of the end and someone else postulating pathetic platitudes. Behind the palms, we saw guys peering into windows, which initially made me think they were Peeping Toms. Around the patio, a pimply-faced pubescent was pissing openly.

Another person was walking what was obviously a very pampered pooch, resembling a Pekinese.

As we got closer, we were partially pummeled with a waft of perfumed air, pleasantly smelling of plumeria. As we entered the foyer, we were met by a greeting party, providing each of us with plastic-wrapped packages and a light peck.

We both paused when we heard a harmonious song being played on the pristine piano which laid atop a patterned Persian carpet.

We eached grabbed a paper plate to fill it with a piece of pumpkin pie, pretzels, popcorn and potato chips. I took the pitcher and poured my friend the last of the punch. One of the guests must've been a physician, as I was able to make out among a cacaphony of sounds, his muffled murmur of pills he could prescribe.

It was then that Pam painfully pinched me to get my attention of the pipe that was being pushed into her palms, as she was deemed next in line to puff.

Moments later, we heard a loud pop and realized someone named Phil packed a power punch at a pimp named Peter who was trying to pick up his playmate of a girlfriend to recruit her as a prostitute and to have her perform pornography.

Flashes of light were coming from all directions, as if we were surrounded by the paparazzi. As soon as we heard the police sirens, we prodded each other into promptly taking our leave.

We called our parents trying not to sound panic-stricken and phony as we tried to paint a more prosaic picture of the reason for our delay.

LOL!  When I read today's exercise, I was totally going to pass, as it didn't excite me enough to want to do it ... I changed my mind at the last minute, feeling the need to stretch my creative stamina.  So this was the best I could whip up at the last second, for both the picture and the "P" -filled story ;P   I'm glad I did it, as it was SO much fun once I got into the groove, but it did have me up WAY past my bedtime!

♥