Sometimes I fancy myself a Nigerian Princess sitting upon a throne of jackal skeletons and wearing a flowing robe of stone-washed Cape buffalo hides. There'd be be eleven pigmy house servants hand-feeding me seedless grapes and a pair of matched hyenas tethered to my bedpost. Balanced upon my regal head would be a five-gallon bucket of latex house paint and a pasta strainer, because my posture would be impeccable and my nipples in a constant state of stimulated readiness.
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Sometimes, on the other hand, I just sit alone in the dark, drinking warm beer, and wondering if I left my phone in the truck.
How strange Hermit, I must admit I have the same thoughts myself from time to time, in fact, tonight I tried to replicate the 'princess pose' in the privacy of my own shed, I zip-tied a large funnel to the back of my head, stripped to my shorts and attached a set of battery jump leads to my nipples using heavy duty crocodile clips, leaning back gently to stretch them to the correct length, then, my son decided to open the up-and-over door from the outside catapulting me onto the pavement outside the house in front of the horrified neighbours, I tried to play it cool though, struggling to stand, attempting to cover my manhood with one hand, my shorts in tatters, nipples stretched and bleeding, knees grazed and bending to recover my flip-flops, (which incidentally were still in the shed after being fired upwards and out wards like a fighter pilot being ejected from a plane) there follows an awkward silence as they try to figure what's going down, 'it's ok, everything's cool folks, I'm a princess you see..........'
ReplyDeleteGood to know I'm not the only one Loveless.
DeleteAt least there were no flames involved Tim...this time...
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