Finn F. Finch & The Clock Contraption: The Lunar Lovers

Fastidious fanatical Finn F. Finch gear twisted his timeteller: a clock contraption that unstraightened the continuous everything and the ticking forwardness of general perception. Always is now and now is never, unless never is always, then now is tomorrow, and today our fine fellow Finn desired the wondrous hereafter of the luxuriant laudable Lunar Café. Two twists of the timeteller tethered Finn forward to two too many tomorrows until Finn finally leapt to his favored location.

He queued cantankerously while curiously contemplating the concoction he desired. “Mayhaps a mischievous monomorphic Mojito? Or respectfully, the unresting restless restrained Ristretto?” His twin sightsee-ers navigated the un-down and the not-up, until Finn frantically and finally laid sights on the hebdomadal rarity, “Lapsang Lunar Lovers”, a fiery juniper libation.. “for two.” Flabbergasted, Finn prolifically pushed hot air out his vocal cavern knocking the long luscious locks of the tantalizing tall stranger that stood straight ahead. Startled, the stranger swiftly shifted sideways in favor of Finns front facing figure. In all his long years and short years and years he’s seen that weren’t his years, Finn, for the first time felt time freeze.

Stone stuck, lips sewn, yet jaw ajar, the time timelessly tocked unticking, as Finn fought to find a profound phrase to fill the void. Graciously, our sweet stranger offered sanctuary from the silence. Sanctuary in the form of the two most lovely words that Finn will ever sound-listen, “Lily LaBelle.”

Our stranger, was a stranger no more. Lily extended her extremity to learn the name of our sigh sigher. Filled with fluster, Finn fauxed confidence and turned his feeble strength to a flirtatious hand grab. “Enchanté, la belle Lily LaBelle.” Lily lit with laughter at Finn’s facetious gesture. Luckily, Lily found Finn’s floundering far more charming than caustic.

As the queue quickly quainted, the two cutely acquainted quickly. Finally, Finn spoke to Lily with a bent punctuational mark, “Would you, Lily LaBelle, like to split the Lapsang Lunar Lovers?” Our darling dear Lily remarked elated, “I’d be delighted!”

Together they tenderheartedly stated their shared ordered to the drink shaker and foot stepped to the nearest legged-plane. The drink shaker swaggered the heated vessel and vaingloriously gifted the completed cocktail. And there the two teapot tipper tipplers sat across from each other; our fanciful felicitous Finn F. Finch and the lovely laureate Lily LaBelle, our newly lunar lovers.

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