His taught glutii wriggled under his shiny skin-tight pants like two kittens wrestling in a nylon stocking. The kittens in his pants propelled his monstrous thighs back and forth, and they in turn carried his elegant vase-shape calves and size-15 feet across the ice.
The German slid up behind him like a slug along a slime trail. His black body suit was like a place where the sun doesn’t shine, and the steel spike on his helmet gleamed in the sun. He twisted his waxed mustache with a sinister laugh, as if he’d just sold his mother to Santa Claus. His tiny feet clattered on the ice like a broken wind chime in a hurricane. “Soon I will have him right where I want him” he thought.