Feed Anderson Novels & Stories

Anderson Silva stood with his chin propped up while watching the news about vampires. Some main roads had been closed in Brooklyn. His brow furrowed when he realized that Horus had conducted a test violating the law. "Sir?" said Heather when she came into Anderson's room. Anderson still hadn't glanced at Heather, who had been standing for a few minutes. She was starting to get annoyed. This boss is extraordinary. He's handsome, but he's such a strange person. "Sir?" Heather repeated it, but Anderson immediately raised his hand to stop her from talking.

Dylan scoots his desk chair back with a brow raised and playful smile “Andre are you a feeder?” Andre’s eyes, all brown and beautiful, round out like a puppy as he fills a plate and hands it to Dylan, “What do you mean?” “You know everyone has their love languages. The ways they show they care. Yours is food. you’re a feeder” “Well I only have a couple more weeks before I have to be back on my normal diet…and if we’re studying all night we need proper food.” “yes, greasy, cheesy pizza….so proper” Andre has this look on his face. He's smiling so big…near glowing. Dylan feels breathless.

Thank God for Gideon that suggests we sorr out everything in the common area. Everyone is seated except Anderson. He's going through the cupboards looking for what to eat. I really hope I'm not drooling from staring at his broad shoulders. I wonder if he still plays basketball. “Babe, where's the rice pops cereal? How am I supposed to survive?" Anderson whines. I choke on my saliva. Who on earth did he call babe? I scan the room but nobody looks fazed. I convince myself it's a nickname. “That's not important right now. Sit your ass down.“ Gideon commands. Anderson sits on one of the countertops. “Can you explain to us why you were harassing Vicky over here?"

A bit dim, but certainly a git. Damon, only recently vegetarian and relapsing once a week, had no problem pretending to like chicken just fine. Though he did throw me a few guilty looks. Converting him had been a struggle. I had to watch some mug in an orange wig undo months of my hard work. I hadn’t the time nor mind to ask about the whole abrupt marriage thing.

After a prolonged pause, Mr. Anderson began to speak, and a hushed silence descended upon the audience. His voice, usually filled with warmth and encouragement, had an icy edge. He looked directly at Andrew, piercing him with a gaze that seemed to lay bare his deepest secrets. "Mr. Hudson," Mr. Anderson's voice boomed through the microphone, "But I also must admit that I am extremely disappointed. Everything you just said a few minutes ago had nothing to do with the entry that PNC sent. You stand here, representing the company's values and ideals, and yet you have shown a complete disregard for honesty and integrity."

One guy's neck had a bone sticking out. It was gruesome. He was called a monster and had the town mobbed him out; his mother tried to calm the situation, but it only made things worse. Someone threw a rock at her, and she died in the process. Anderson went on a massacre. I guess that is why Anderson was the muscle of the executives. Eva found him and took him in as part of the Order, promising that no one would look down on him anymore. Anderson owns a chicken farm in South Carolina and Tennessee and a cockfight business in Mexico.

I put aside the broken ones first because I still have a lot to do. It was about eleven o'clock in the morning when I finished cleaning the whole front of Mr. Anderson's house. My garden! Why does he have no helper? It's stressful! I entered the house to cook lunch. I plan to cook Filipino cuisine called Chicken adobo --- I just watched it on the internet last night and it looks like it's easy to cook. When I entered the main door, I first saw Mr. Anderson in the living room sitting and frowning while reading documents. He is wearing casual clothes and looks like a new bath-- isn't he going to work? Well, I just remembered he is the owner of the company. Whether he comes in or not, it's okay

replied Zivanna. "Hmm. Still don't want to eat hospital food?" Andreson smiled as he stood up and then checked the food on the table. Zivanna shook her head. " Alfredo has brought breakfast for me." "I know. This, right? Hmm, it smells really good. I'll feed you." Anderson said, then sat back down with a lunchbox. "Anderson, I can do it myself. Don't bother yourself." Zivanna refused in a subtle tone, then slowly got up and leaned back.

she said warmly, her eyes shining with appreciation. Anderson chuckled playfully, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "You know, you could have had this every day," he teased, his tone light and affectionate. "But because you were angry with me, you were missing out on my very good meals." Cassie couldn't help but laugh at Anderson's playful banter, her heart swelling with love for him. Despite their ups and downs, she knew that they shared an unbreakable bond. As she savored the delicious meal he had prepared for her, she felt grateful for the love and warmth that filled their home.

I brought just one spoon Me: I only brought one spoon He took it from me and put it in the food Andy: it's blessed, amen I smiled He took a little of it and brought it to my mouth. I opened up and he gently fed me. Next he fed himself Andy: did a maid or chef make this? Me: I think my mom did Andy: it's good He took another spoon and nodded then another spoon. I chuckled Me: mister, you're forgetting me He chuckled and fed me three times Andy: now feed me