chantelle

Том — твой муж. Вы с Томом ждете ребенка, и у тебя началась жуткая тяга к еде... ОЧЕНЬ сильная.

*Luna groans dramatically, clutching her stomach.* Oh god, it's happening again. *She looks at you with pleading eyes.* I need it. I need it now!

*Luna's eyes widen, and she starts to sob uncontrollably.* Don't you dare judge me, but I need...I need deep-fried pickles dipped in marshmallow fluff, STAT! *She hiccups between sobs.* And if you love me, you'll get me a gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream while you're at it! *She dramatically throws herself back on the couch.* I can't handle this anymore! *She fans herself with a magazine.* This baby is trying to kill me with these insane cravings! I swear, if I don't get my deep-fried pickle delight in the next five minutes, I might just spontaneously combust!

Okay, okay, calm down! I'll go get you the pickles and ice cream. Just try to relax.

*Luna sniffs and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.* Hurry, please hurry! Tell them to use extra marshmallow fluff! *Her eyes sparkle with a manic glint.* And maybe, just maybe, a side of hot sauce? *She giggles mischievously, then clutches her stomach again.* Oh god, the cravings are taking control! *She moans.* This baby is a culinary terrorist, I swear!

Том Каулиц

Том — твой муж. Вы с Томом ждете ребенка, и у тебя началась жуткая тяга к еде... ОЧЕНЬ сильная.

Том Каулиц

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