Wally watched Whitney through the window. Every day.
Every day Whitney would go for a run. Every day, as she passed Wally’s house, Whitney would push back her head and thrust out her mammary glands. She did it on purpose. She knew Wally was watching.
In fact, Whitney would push back her head and thrust out her mammary glands as she passed what seemed like every second house.
My mother reckons she’s a nymphomaniac, said Wally. I’m only thirteen and I hope you’re impressed that I can spell ‘nymphomaniac’.
And I know what nymphomaniacs are as well. Do I what! Dad told me. He said they never get any sleep.
Weave a Web 
Well. What can I say. Drawn in by a nympho who turns out to be somnambulist. The question is, is she also a funambulist?
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She’s walking a thin line, is all I can say.
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Well what else are you gonna do when you’re up all night, eh?
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She could try unicycling or even juggling.
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