This past Saturday was our company’s 20th year anniversary, and to celebrate we threw our big annual anniversary bash. Because this time was the sales department’s turn to organize the event, I thought it would be a great idea if I volunteered to lead up the entire project. Showing this kind of initiative always looks good during your big year-end review; not to mention, since I sort of dropped the ball several weeks back with that whole “breast pump” incident, I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to redeem myself with the big boss and finally gain my way into his good graces.
Everyone knows that delegation is the most important role of any good leader, so I immediately went to work assigning responsibilities to the team. I placed Yvonne in charge of catering; Martin in charge of decorations; Sue in charge of the liquor; and since Gracie (the old Jewish lady with the drinking problem) has a tendency to get a little demanding after a few Manhattans; this year I even decided to assign Sherman in charge of security. Last year Gracie slapped the shit out of the bartender for forgetting her cherry, and no one wanted a repeat of that. The only thing left on the list was to book the entertainment. Since I was the only one in the office with the real inside scoop on the music industry, having auditioned for American Idol two years in a row; it only made sense that I be in charge of that. Besides, as a well respected music veteran; not only did I already “speak the language”: I figured with all my big inside connects– I’d be able to find us someone good in no time.
I immediately hit the phones calling around to all of the top music execs in town, putting my “feelers” out as we like to say in the biz. After not hearing back from a single one of them, my buddy Dave informed me that his Uncle Smitty had just gotten out of jail and was now managing this hot new group called SVL. Since Dave and I were buds, he even assured me that his uncle would cut me a great deal on their fee. I thought, “Wow, what office party wouldn’t love a performance from some hot new R&B group?” This was exactly what I needed to take this party to the next level. Not to mention, since this group was just coming out; how freaking cool will it be a year from now when they’re the hottest new sensation in the world, to be able to say that I actually got them to perform at our little office party? The idea was dare I say genius; so we put a call in to Uncle Smitty. Not only was SVL available that evening to perform; he even gave me the family rate of just $1,400 bucks, which was nearly two grand under my budget. So not only was I getting the hottest new band around; I was also saving the company a fortune. And there’s nothing the big boss loves more than saving money. That’s why it definitely pays to know people in the biz.
The day of the party finally arrived and everything couldn’t have gone any smoother. The food looked amazing; the decorations were on point; and Sherman had even managed to get a hold of a couple of tazer guns just in case old Gracie decided to go on another one of her war paths. I had literally thought of everything. As 3pm hit, all of the guests started to arrive with their families just as planned. Looking around the room, everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives. And for the first time in two years, the big boss actually smiled at me from across the room. I finally knew what it felt like to be a winner. I assumed that was my cue from the big guy to come over and meet the family, however as soon as he saw me making my way over, for some reason he gestured “no” with his head. I figured he probably just wanted to save all of my praise for his big speech. So with that said, I just continued to wave from across the room.
The only thing left on the itinerary was the big performance and you could already feel the buzz in the air. Roughly fifteen minutes before the show, I got a call from the driver informing me that SVL had just pulled up. The crowd was growing a bit restless, so I quickly grabbed the mic and announced that the show would be starting soon. All of the kids in the audience, including the boss’s, erupted in cheer as we all waited for the group to arrive upstairs. As the elevator doors finally opened, I could literally not believe my eyes. To my astonishment, out came prancing this bunch of old geriatric looking gay guys dressed in shiny red cat suits and riding boots. I shrieked “WTF?” You could literally hear the entire room gasp as the guys stepped off the elevator. Unsure of what was happening, I immediately ran over and exclaimed, “I’m sorry, are you guys here to see the show– because this is actually a private party?” To my dismay, one of the old gay men replied “Honey… we are the show.” Then one of the other guys added a Wendy Williams “How you doing?” from the background; which for some reason seem to tickle them all to death. Confused, I replied “There’s obviously a huge mistake here. Smitty said that SVL was supposed to perform today.” The guy then pursed his lips and replied, “Chile, who do you think you’re looking at?” Completely baffled, I replied “So you guys are R&B singers?” to which he responded “No Honey, we’re Voguers from the Gay and Transgender Senior Citizen Home in the village. SVL stands for Senior Vogueing League. Chile, you betta’ ask somebody.” This was of course followed by several more rounds of “How you doings” from the old “gay” chorale in the rear.
By now a crowd had begun to gather to see what all of the commotion was about, and I was so mortified that I just wanted to melt right through the floor boards. I couldn’t believe that asshole Dave had screwed me over yet once again. I knew that there was no way in hell I was letting those old fruit loops perform. It would surely be the end of my job as I knew it. Sherman then came over and explained, “You might as well just let them go on. Who else are you going to get this late…besides you already paid them $1,400 bucks? As much as I hated to admit it, Sherman was absolutely right. There was no way I could have the company take that kind of loss. He then added, “Besides…who knows? The show might just end up being fierce!” as he and my other co-worker Martin fell to the floor laughing. This was slowly somehow turning out to be the office party from hell. With no other choice, I begrudgingly showed the old guys to the little performance area we had set up in the middle of the floor. I then just closed my eyes and prayed for the best.
I swear that watching all those old queens warm up proved to be just as much of a show as the performance itself. By the time they got finished calling each other “Gurllll”, and referring to inanimate objects as “Miss” (eg: “Miss Girdle seems a wee bit snug today” & “Gurl can I borrow Miss Lip liner? I must’ve left mine is Miss Car”); everybody in the entire room was confused. But the thing that really took the cake was when the biggest one of them all tipped over to the boss and asked, “Sugar, where’s your little girl’s room? Mama has to go tinkle.” I’d never seen a person turn so red in my life.
Finally it was time for the show. House music suddenly began to play over the loud speakers as the SVL’s all marched on to the floor in a single line like a bunch of majorettes. I don’t think anyone in that room was prepared for what was to come next. There’s absolutely nothing on this planet more excruciating then watching a bunch of seventy year old gay senior citizens attempting to vogue. We’ve all seen the infamous Madonna video with those legendary gay dancers demonstrating some of the most acrobatic yet graceful vogue moves ever caught on camera. Well, this looked absolutely nothing like that. Actually not even close. These had to be some of the most awful voguers in the history of history itself. Watching these old guys perform, one couldn’t help but wonder if they had even seen vogueing before. One old guy because of an obvious paralysis could only vogue with one of his arms; one guy simply just used his hands to point to different things in the room on beat; while one guy I swear as God is my witness was just doing the Village People “YMCA” dance. And to make matters even worse; each time one of them would do go to the front and do a move; the rest of the group would attempt to hype them up, by all yelling in unison “Work…bitch!!!” Everyone in that room was in a complete state of shock. The SVL’s were so uncomfortably awkward to watch, that all the kids in the room just started crying and yelling “Please make them stop!”
Finally, haven I guess taken all that she could stand; Yvonne (the ghetto receptionist) decided to kick off her shoes, and run out there to show the old lame queens how vogueing was really done. Not to be out done; Gracie followed suit. So now picture a bunch of old geriatric queens all on the floor, battling Yvonne and little old drunk Gracie in the most horrible vogue off you’ve ever seen. This day just couldn’t get any worse. Although Yvonne and Gracie did manage to add a little life to an otherwise horrific performance; the show soon came to a screeching halt when Gracie went overboard by ripping off her shirt and doing the Running-man through the crowd bare chested. All I have to say is, thank God we had those damn stun guns on hand. I hated to do it, but she was heading towards the boss’s kids; and I had to save the day somehow.
(FYI..Gracie is in room 3322 at NYU Hospital in case any wants to send flowers or get well soon cards)
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One day last week while cleaning up my place, I came to a startling realization. I suddenly noticed that the two bottles of Absolute that normally sat untouched on top of my bar were now somehow mysteriously empty. This really freaked me out; mainly because I live alone. Since I pretty much never drink at home; I just normally keep liquor there for the rare case I decided to entertain; I realized that this could only mean one thing. Someone had broken into my home when I wasn’t there. The thought alone instantly sent shivers through my body. With the exception of that time my ex girlfriend’s Pit-bull ran up and licked the crack of my ass when I was getting out of her shower; I had never felt so violated before in my whole life.
Whenever you’ve been robbed, the very first thing you should always do is immediately go make sure all of your valuables are safe. So I quickly dashed to my secret hiding place in my room to make sure that my midget porn collection was still there. To my surprise it was still safe and sound; all 62 DVD’s. Even the autographed limited edition one I got from Bridget the Midget herself, a week before she scarred her left breast in that big legendary knife fight. Talk about priceless. I realized right then that I was obviously dealing with an amateur. After checking the rest of my place and finding everything still there, I thought “Hmnh…that’s strange. The only thing that seems to be missing is the vodka. Who on earth would go through the trouble of breaking in just to drink up my vodka?” And that’s when it hit me. It was obviously one of those damn doormen. Since they both have master keys to all of our units in case of emergency, not to mention they’re the only ones who knew my comings and goings; it made perfect sense.
Since there were two of them I needed to figure out which one of them was the culprit. Seeing how the bottle of Hennessy I had sitting there was still virtually untouched; I knew right then that it was no way in hell that it was the brother. So that only left the old shifty eye Russian one that’s always giving me the once over when I walk by. Russian guy…Vodka… it didn’t exactly take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. I was beyond furious so I called up the management office and raised all kind of hell; as a result, they came right over to my place for an emergency meeting. I showed them the empty bottles; explained the scenario; and then demanded that they go have the jerk arrested. However, they explained that legally there was really nothing they could do without actual proof that it was indeed Ivan. Since the only way to do that was to catch him dead in the act; they devised an ingenious plan to put a hidden camera in the house. That way, if he broke in again the next day we would have him.
So that evening we replaced both bottles of vodka, and then mounted a little hidden camera on the wall. I then went to work that next morning just as I normally do as not to tip him off. I could barely even concentrate all that day just imagining everything I was going to do to that bastard when I caught him. I thought, “Should I kick his ass first and then call the police; or do call the police and then kick his ass?” Either way he was getting his ass kicked. I even spent my entire lunch hour in the gym that day jumping rope and busting out a few push-ups. I figured I better get my agility up just in case the little bitch made a run for it. Right after work, I high-tailed it back home as quick as I could. I ran straight to my apartment and low and behold; just as I suspected one of the bottles was nearly empty. I now had all the proof I needed. Fuming mad, I ran out to the doormen station to confront him. I shouted “Mutha’ F*ka I finally caught you! Get ready because I’m about to whoop yo’ thieving Russian ass!” I then charged at Ivan going full speed. I honestly wasn’t prepared for what came next. Ivan did some quick little move I hadn’t anticipated, and the next thing I knew; I was pinned in a headlock screaming “Get him off me! Get him off me!” to the Black guy. I had no idea Russians could fight so good. I imagine that’s why they make such good spies.
The police were eventually called because of all the commotion, along with the two original guys from the management office. Since Ivan still insisted on denying everything, we all went inside my apartment to review the tape. I explained to the officers since I left for work at 9am they’re sure to find him somewhere on there between then and now. I then gave Ivan the most evil look I could muster while we all waited for the officer to cue up the tape. As he slowly rewound the footage with us all looking at the monitor, there was absolutely zero activity on there between those hours. I thought, “Wow, how in the hell did he manage to do that?” Now more pissed than ever, I exploded “Great! He obviously saw you guys come back last night with the bag from Radio Shack and was on to us! That asshole must’ve erased the tape!” Just as Ivan and I were beginning to argue again, the officer cuing the tape interjected, “Guys, I think we got something here.” We all turned back to view the monitor.
The officer went back to 3:30am on the tape and I literally could not believe what I saw. To my surprise; all of a sudden I appeared on screen walking from my bedroom in sort of this strange sleep-like trance, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and my little tidy whiteys. I then walked over to the cabinet and took out a martini glass and a shaker, along with some other ingredients from the fridge. Next, I went over to the bar and proceeded to make myself a full out cosmopolitan, garnish and all. It was unbelievable. I thought “WTF?? I don’t even like cosmopolitans.” To everyone’s dismay, I knocked four of them back and less than ten minutes. Standing there watching myself, I thought “Wow, not only am I a raging drunk in my sleep; apparently I’m a gay one too.” After everything was over, still in my trance I went over to the sink and washed everything up and put it back neatly in its place. Finally, I then staggered back to my room and shut the door again. I swear this had to be the spookiest thing I’ve ever seen. If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it. But then again, I guess it does kind of explain those few times I woke up in my bathtub wearing nothing but my some dress socks and a rape whistle. Not to mention all those damn excruciating morning headaches.
Everyone began instantly looking at me. Talk about awkward. At a complete loss for words; the only thing I left to say was, “Hey…since we’re all here, would anyone care for drink? Apparently I make one hell of a Cosmo.” None of them thought the joke was funny whatsoever. Then, just as I was in the middle of my apology to poor Ivan, believe it or not, it suddenly got even worse. The officer cuing the tape replied, “Uhh.. guys, there’s actually more here. You might want to see this.” I thought, “What the hell else could there be?” At exactly three minutes later on the tape, I suddenly emerged from my room again; only this time with one of my midget porn DVD’s in my hand. I shrieked to myself “Oh God no!” Still sleep walking, I headed directly over to the DVD player and popped the disk in. Next to everyone’s astonishment; I took off all my clothes and then proceeded to do the most lewd and despicable “self love” session probably ever caught on camera. I’m sure of-course every guy has a little freaky side in them. But this stuff made that infamous sex scene between Mickey Rourke and Lisa Bonet in Angel Heart, look more like a Disney film. It was so disgusting I just wanted to drop to my knees right then and start doing Hail Marys, and I’m not even Catholic. It was almost impossible to watch. I used random stuff around the house as props, and pieces of furniture for positions that required leverage. One move, for some crazy reason even required me to get a running start. That was the point that everyone just winced, “Ouch”. At one point it got so bad that the two officers even had to look away. When you can weird out two NYPD officers, who’ve no doubt seen some of the most horrific crime scenes known to man: that is technically not a good thing.
The situation was so awkward, that when the tape was over nobody literally said a word including the two officers. Everyone just sort of walked out in silence without making eye contact with one another, no doubt in hopes of forgetting everything they’d just seen. As soon as they all left, the very first thing I did was go put on a rubber glove and immediately throw all my remotes in the trash. It was pretty damn clear after seeing what I did with them on that tape that I was never touching those again. I then went to my computer and began searching through Craig’s List for a new apartment, because there’s no way in hell I can stay in this building after that.
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This past weekend I flew home to Grand Rapids Michigan for a family event. Boarding my flight, we were all greeted by two very wholesome Marsha Brady looking flight attendants. They both had perfect blond hair, pearly whites, and smiles that went from ear to ear. As I headed to my seat I thought to my self “Wow, what a professional looking crew.” Just then from behind a long line of passengers came barging through, this chubby ass middle aged black woman, dressed in a “way too tight” and bedazzled stewardess uniform; and announcing to the crew at the top of her lungs.. “My bad…I know I’m late! My daughter got arrested again.” I turned to see what all the commotion was and I could not believe my eyes. As soon as I saw her honey blond extensions, dirty pink house shoes, and gold plated necklace that read “Niecey”; something just told me I was in for an interesting flight.
Our plane checked in full; so from the moment we hit the sky, the flight attendants appeared somewhat overwhelmed as they scrambled to assist all the passengers. Instead of lending a hand to help the other two ladies who were obviously struggling; Niecey “the ghetto flight attendant”, just sat in the rear of the plane the entire time with her shoes off, and repeatedly cracking her toes while playing Tetris on her phone. And every time a passenger would walk over and ask her for something; without even looking from the phone she would just reply “Chile…my feet hurt, you gone have to ask somebody else for that”. I had never seen anything like it before in my life.
Since the flight was just under an hour there was no meal service scheduled, not even a measly bag of peanuts. However about 20 minutes into the flight, everyone noticed that the entire cabin suddenly began smelling just like old greens and feet. Curious, I leaned my head around the corner to investigate the smell and I could not believe my eyes. Niecey’s ghetto ass had stunk up the entire plane warming up an old plate of soul food that she brought from home. And from the smell of things, that plate had been sitting in the back of her refrigerator for two weeks. She had catfish, greens, macaroni, yams; you name it, she had it piled up on that plate. She then proceeded to douse the entire hot sauce; sit back down in her seat with a bottle of Grape Crush, and loudly smack her way through the entire plate. So not only did we not get a meal service on the plane; we all had to sit there and smell Niecey’s old catfish and greens for the entire flight. This was slowly turning into the flight from hell.
About 20 minutes later I realized I had to use the rest room. Since there was a long line of people waiting to use the one in the back near me, I decided to walk to the front of the plane and use the one in first class. Just as I was reaching for the restroom door, Niecey literally came sprinting up from the rear of the plane barefoot with her stockings on, and screaming “Nuh Uh!! Nigga you know you can’t use that! That’s first class!” Startled, I explained to her that the other one was crowded and no one was using this one. But by this time she had jimmied herself between me and the door, blocking my entrance. Taken aback I asked,“What’s the big deal? It’s just a bathroom, besides I’m already up here now.” But with her lips pursed sideways she just kept exclaiming, “Nope, rules is rules. You can not use these people’s bathroom! Go to the one in the back!!” I tried to open the door anyway, but it was pretty clear that she wasn’t going to move out of my way. So with no other choice, I decided to fake her out. I pretended to walk back to my seat, and as soon as she turned around, I quickly doubled back and darted into the restroom. Enraged, she began banging and yelling on the door for me to come out; but I figured, at this point there was pretty much nothing she could do. So I thought. Just as I was coming out and heading to my seat, now determined for revenge, Niecey quickly pulled the beverage cart over into the aisle and began serving drinks all over again just so I couldn’t get by. With all of the other flight attendants looking confused as to why Niecey was serving drinks again just 20 minuets later, she made sure to take even 4 times longer than usual. I thought to myself, “This is one petty ass bitch.”.
About 20 minutes later, the flight attendants began walking through the cabin to prepare for arrival. By this time, I was sitting half asleep in my seat, and I didn’t realize that my foot was slightly sticking out into the aisle. As Niecey was walking backwards through the cabin collecting last minute trash, she accidentally tripped over my foot and fell completely backwards to the floor. Her big bag of trash flew in the air. Completely in shock, I quickly apologized and went to help her up from the ground. As soon as she saw that it was me that tripped her, assuming that I did it on purpose to get her back from earlier, she instantly hopped back to her feet and to my surprise, she hauled off and slapped the dog sh*t out of me. “WHAP!” Boy was I not expecting that. She actually hit me so hard that I went delirious. For a second I thought I was back in my grandmother’s kitchen playing scrabble with Jesus. I had never been hit that hard before in my life. It was like she had a bag of nickels in her hand. Thank God, my Grandma’s chihuahua Smokey came running in when he did and warned me to “Stay away from the light”. Otherwise I would’ve for sure been a goner. Just as I came to, and tried to explain to her again that it was really just a mistake; before I knew it, she had done slapped me again with her other hand only this time even harder. I thought to myself, “WTF?? Is this bitch ambidextrous?” As much as I wanted to sit there and rationalize with her, it didn’t exactly take a rocket scientist to figure out that she was coming back for thirds. So thinking fast, before she could hit me again, I quickly leaned in and caught her in the stomach with a quick uppercut. I must’ve knocked the wind out of her too; because she doubled all the way over to the floor holding her stomach.
Now I don’t know exactly what was in those greens; but she suddenly got up and shook that punch off like the Terminator, and then began taking off her jewelry. Now, I don;t know about you… But I’ve seen enough Ghetto Brawl clips on YouTube to know that this was technically not a good sign. Although I normally would never in a million years condone hitting a woman; from the look in her eyes, it was pretty clear that I was going to have to fight this bitch to the death. The next thing I knew, Niecey and I were rolling through the aisle fighting like two alley cats. And I am actually man enough to say, that this bitch was whooping my ass. I probably would’ve had a better chance against a pack of wild orangutans. I had no idea a person could even move so fast. I began praying aloud, “Can somebody ‘PLEASE’ come break this up?” But to my surprise, the entire plane started chanting in unison, “Kick his ass… kick his ass”. I thought, “Kick ‘my’ ass? What the hell did I do to them?” Not to mention, the last thing this bitch needs is more encouragement. By the time the air marshal finally made his way over; Niecey had me pinned between the aisle in a half nelson.
As soon as the plane landed, we were both detained in the security office for questioning. As it turned out; because Niecey had violated the airline’s strict policy against kicking a passengers ass, she was let go right there on the spot. And as consolation, I was released with a formal apology from the airline and 500,000 frequent flier miles. Apparently, this wasn’t Niecey’s first time fighting a passenger. My only prayer is that the footage isn’t somewhere floating around on YouTube. The last thing I need is it getting out that yet another woman publicly kicked my ass. Women tend not to be attracted to that.
*This B&TC Rewind Originally Ran back in April.
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One day while riding the A, I met this extremely attractive woman and we decided to exchange numbers. After a couple of weeks of talking on the phone, I realized that I was really beginning to like her. Aside from the fact that for some reason she never seemed to answer her phone after 7pm; I’d say she was pretty much everything I was looking for in a woman. I figured hey, so what if she goes to sleep way earlier than most people I know. Hell, my grandmother goes to bed every single night right after the five o’clock news: and that doesn’t make her a horrible person. Personally, I kind of liked the fact that she really valued her rest. Not to mention, I figured if we ever started dating; I’d save a fortune on matinee movie tickets. The last time a date insisted on going to a movie after 6pm, the tickets were $13 dollars a piece. Plus she had the nerve to ask me for popcorn and snacks on top of that. I was actually offended. That’s another $30 bucks. I replied, “Who the hell do I look like…Jay Z?”
Last Wednesday, she and I finally decided to go on our first date. To my surprise, instead of going out to some expensive restaurant and a movie; she actually invited me over to her place for dinner. Talk about ecstatic. Under my calculations, she had already just saved me roughly $80 bucks on our first date alone. Now in my book, that’s what you call a real keeper. To me, nothing on earth is sexier than a woman who’s fiscally responsible. Walking up to her building, I thought “Shoot, if things keep going this good; I could actually see myself marrying this girl. And plus, now that the library near my mom finally has a computer; we might even be able to scratch the whole ceremony and just do the entire wedding via Skype? Wouldn’t that be cost effective?” Ringing the buzzer to her building, I pondered “I wonder if instead of a wedding gown, she’d be willing to go more business casual? I get 30% off everything at The Work Barn; not to mention I’m sure a lot of women would love getting married in nice pant suit.”
When she opened the door, she was even more beautiful than I remembered on the train. However it could’ve had something to do with the fact that she was wearing nothing but a teddy. My first impression was, “Wow, she really does go to bed early.” I had assumed we would sit down for a nice meal, but before I knew it within minutes, we were literally upstairs in her bedroom going at it. This was without a doubt the easiest date I ever had. We had already pretty much made it to 3rd base; and the only money I had to spend money on was pack of Dentine and an across town bus transfer. I thought, “Damn…God is good!” Then just as things were really starting to get hot and heavy, she excused herself to the restroom in order to go “prepare”. And every guy knows what that means. I thought, “OMG, first the $80 bucks and now this. This night just keeps getting better and better!”
The second she left the room, I quickly ripped off all my clothes. I even put on my condom in advance so I wouldn’t have to fuss with it later on in the moment. I learned from experience that no matter how many times you explain that they all come from the same factory; some women get a little put off the second they see a Walmart brand condom. All of a sudden her phone began to ring. After several rings, to my surprise her answering machine picked up. Suddenly, on the other end of the line I heard a man’s voice screaming “Sheila! Answer this damn phone! I know you in there with some other nigga! I’m parked out front and I can see his shadow moving around!” Startled, I thought “Jesus Christ…what the f*ck?” I darted over to the window and looked out; and sure enough, parked directly in front of her building was a white minivan with the lights on. I thought “Oh no!! This sh*t is really happening!” Suddenly, he startled me by screaming through the machine “Nigga I see you looking out the window! I’m gone kill yo’ ass…you hear me? I’m gone kill both of yawl mutha f*ckas!” Frighted, I tripped backwards over the night stand trying to jump out of the window.
Next I began totally freaking out. I’ve seen enough episodes of Snapped to know that this kind of thing never ends pretty. Panicked out of my mind I thought, “Man, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend! No wonder she never answers after seven! And now he’s s about to come up here and blow my head off! This was technically not a good date any more!” Completely frantic by this point, I quickly began throwing on clothes. I accidentally knocked two pictures off the wall, just trying to get my leg back in my stupid underwear. Clothes always seem smaller when your in a rush; and I only had seconds to get the hell out of there, so this was no time to be neat. Hearing all the commotion, suddenly Sheila came running into the room and yelled “What in the world is going on? And why are you stretching out my good panties?” Almost completely out of breath from hyperventilating, I shouted “There’s no time to explain! The jig is up! Your boyfriend knows and he’s parked out front! He said he’s about to come up here and kill us both!” I then yelled “Save yourself!” as I headed for the back fire escape with my pants and shoes still in my hand.
In the midst of all of the madness, I realized that for some reason she seemed to still be cool as a cucumber. Baffled, I thought “Oh great! The poor thing is in shock. Now I’m gonna have to try to lift her big ass down the damn fire escape too!” This was not looking good. Again she yelled “Wait…stop! It’s okay; you don’t have to go anywhere.” Still in a frenzy, I snapped “You stupid bitch didn’t you hear me? He’s on his way up here to kill us both!” Still relaxed and now slightly chuckling she replied “Calm down. You’re perfectly safe. He can’t come up here. He’s in a wheel chair.” Now more confused than ever, I replied “What do you mean? He’s down there right now, I saw him!” She finally explained “He’s paralyzed from the waist down. That’s actually a special van he has. He can drive it all across town, but he can’t get out unless I go carry him out!” She then showed me a picture that they took together the year before in Hawaii; and just like she said, he was indeed in a wheel chair. She then added “See relax….he can blow and circle the block all he wants, but he can’t get out that van unless I go get him.”
I sat down on the bed in order to catch my breath. Seconds later she began massaging my shoulders and chest very sensually. She was obviously pretty set on continue what we had started. I was still a little frazzled, but I thought “Hell, there’s no use in wasting a good condom. That’s like throwing $1.23 right down the drain.” With that said, we continued doing the do. Although it was a bit difficult to get into with her boyfriend constantly honking his horn, and yelling through the machine “Bitch…I said come out here and get me!” and “I can see yawl shadows up there! Whose foot was that??”
By the time I finally left her apartment that morning; her poor boyfriend was out there sound asleep in his little special seat inside the van. I felt just awful too. Standing there looking through the window at him sleeping so peacefully, I suddenly realized “Wait….why am I feeling so sorry for this guy? After all, I’m the one that had to back to paying for full fare movie tickets now. Standing beside the van, I whispered softly “I may have won the battle last night. But you sir have won the war. Touché my friend…touché.”
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