What can I say really? I mean, I was attracted to you. You seemed to be attracted to me. We chatted. Made the usual sexual innuendo’s at the appointed time. Yours were pretty funny. Mine took the house down. Always do.
We shared a space in line at the convenience store and we both chuckled that it was so not convenient of late. The wait in line recently has just been ridiculous. You thought it was the extra traffic from construction. I waxed eloquent about the capitalist overlords who absentee style, ran the place thru a minority proxy to assuage our anger. Clearly your point was small and ill defined in comparison to mine. But whose keeping score?
What I could not overlook however was the noise making bafoonery taking place at your feet. Your melon-headed, nose picking, ass wipe offspring needed some discipline. Ancient Mesopotamia style.
And, like any pretentious white male who, being subjected to long lines now considers himself a civil rights victim, I gave it to him.
In my defense, I did not see the door was being held open. I really had no intention of launching him into the busy parking lot traffic. I also thought he would be heavier. Given the amount of noise coming from his blow hole, I would have presumed him to be thicker and denser.
I haven’t played soccer in years but there is no denying that I still have game. It takes mad skills to hit a moving target, in the balls, and get the kind of distance I got.
Amid all the screaming, crying and yelling, I forgot to purchase my slim jim, so I’m still kinda pissed but I’m willing to overlook the bafoonery and hook up sometime if you promise to send ‘Damien’ to any of the several males you think might be the father.
Hopefully his balls will drop, someday.
Ṇ
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