Dammit-Dave Doesn’t Dare Part #2

Direly Different Day. I detect Dave doodling. No. Declaring it doodling’s a distortion. Deliberately, doggedly, distractedly, Dave duplicates definite doughnut-like discs.

Drawing by delirious drawing, I discern Dave’s detailed document developing.

“Dave!” I distress, descrying disturbed destruction. “Don’t! Desist! Defend!”

“Disc, disc, disc,” Dave doodles determinedly, disclosing a devastating discourse on demented doughnuts or, desiccated dames? I despair of discovery.

But Dammit-Dave doesn’t drive at distant destinations disinheritedly. Duressed, Dave is dare-devilish. Displaying determination, Dave diagrams a digit. A doughnut. Digit. Doughnut. Digit. Distinctly, Dave dittos dozens of duos of digits doubled by - doughnuts.

 Doughnuts? Or the dreaded Device of Domestication?

The Deuce! I’m duped by the dangerous diversion of Dave’s demented duads. Daze and dismay! Are Dave’s divinely decontaminated doughnut days defunct?

Dave’s dutiful demise dawns, daunts!

“Dude!” I deprecate. “Damn drastic! Don’t do it! Don’t descend to ‘Dearest Darling’! Don’t dissolve to ‘delightful devotion’!”

Dark Down-beat Day!

Dear Dammit-Dave is damed!