Problem/Solution/Com- plication

Problem: The sun goes down too early.

Solution: Tell the sun you prefer a little more buildup, a little more romance, before things get hot and heavy.

Complication: The sun gives you a dozen roses, opens a bottle of wine, and grills you a delicious dinner, and somehow doesn't burn it, and seems content to sit and gently touch and kiss for hours, or is it days, or is it weeks now?

Crops die. Everyone starves.
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Sun, sex

Sun worshippers at least can see and feel their God. Also, they get what they pray for, as long as that's improved mood, brownness, skin cancer, and to be forsaken in winter.

My friend, drunk during the middle of the day, despite my empty threats, insists on calling me a heliosexual, which he knows bothers me because my penis is only ninety-two million miles long (and, as you may have guessed, a fraction of a millimeter wide). I'm deathly afraid of space junk and Venus.

I love Spring. And Sun, if you want to move a million miles closer, I think you're really hot. And I'm not just saying that. It's science.
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