Is The Truth A Male?
Every human has a reason for telling the truth. Many of us are just honest. Some are honest without meaning to be.
“I don’t understand,” A male voice interrupted my thoughts as I watched the waves rushing by as if they had a date and it was late. The sea was very rough today, birds were flying across the sky, their eyes aimed at the rushing water in search of food. The sun’s shift was ending as it slowly descended behind clouds edging downwards as if into the sea.
“You are not honest. Heck, you have a reputation for being a scheming, lying, cunning female. Yet when the need arises, you tell everyone the truth. How? Why?”
My neck unconsciously swung around too quickly, and I heard a crick.
“Damn!” I said under my breath, massaging the back of my neck while staring at a masculine-looking female, nearby. A skin-tight black and red body suit revealed no curves for a female, even though she had big boobs and almost no abs. Open-toe sandals show long red polished toenails. Her long fingernails were the same, with designs on her thumbs. A blonde boy-cut wig adorns her small head. Lots of makeup makes her what she ain’t, or wants to be.
“I can’t help myself,” she said in a course male-like voice. “I must tell the truth.”
