Now I ain't one to gossip, but ain't heard this from me...
Last night a cop pounded on one our neighbor's doors, yelling "court summons" with the authority and only a man of the law could assume. The neighbor's car was there and the lights flickered off (idiot). He was obviuosly home and knew he was in trouble. Big C and I were in the dining room hanging out in front of the computer when this growing spectacle first caught our attention. We watched from the dining room, mouths open, intermittenly saying "oh damn" and gasping in disbelief.
Then, the purple cloud of curiosity, which is inherently part of our natures growing up in neighborhoods where you stare at the unfamiliar car (and in turn, you were stared at when you went to a new neighborhood), led us to my bedroom, where we could watch more discreetly with the lights off and have a better view because it's on the third floor. The three of us, Matt, Big C and I, ran gleefully upstairs, cigarettes and beers in hand, and positioned ourselves in front of the window as if it was our own big screen television.
The cop evenutally left and about 10 minutes later, the lights turned back on. Then a calm neighbor man and his woman who we SWEAR is a stripper (strange schedule plus big bag plus big boobies equals stripper, according to our estimations) walked out to the car. He opened the car door for her and then they were off. Where could they have gone? To hide the stash? To get a lawyer? To tell their friends? To run away?
We didn't see any bags and they left their dog, so we figured they'd be back. He came back alone, which meant to us that he went to drop off his woman at a hotel. You know, for protection from the cop. The show was over at this point. It lasted a whole cigarette.
We came back downstairs, tuned in to some reality "miracle" show where they show blind kids and people all messed up from debilitating diseases and they make you want to cry because they're so fucked up and they get surgeries and in the end they're all better, and proceeded to talk about what we would do if a mother/daughter combo propositioned us with sex. Our answers:
Big C: "Hell yeah."
Matt: Makes a face.
Me: "I couldn't do it because I'd be thinking the whole time how fucked up they are for doing this. I mean a mother and daughter."
Maybe it's different for dudes. I'd like to hear some thoughts on this. That means you. Go!
Then, the purple cloud of curiosity, which is inherently part of our natures growing up in neighborhoods where you stare at the unfamiliar car (and in turn, you were stared at when you went to a new neighborhood), led us to my bedroom, where we could watch more discreetly with the lights off and have a better view because it's on the third floor. The three of us, Matt, Big C and I, ran gleefully upstairs, cigarettes and beers in hand, and positioned ourselves in front of the window as if it was our own big screen television.
The cop evenutally left and about 10 minutes later, the lights turned back on. Then a calm neighbor man and his woman who we SWEAR is a stripper (strange schedule plus big bag plus big boobies equals stripper, according to our estimations) walked out to the car. He opened the car door for her and then they were off. Where could they have gone? To hide the stash? To get a lawyer? To tell their friends? To run away?
We didn't see any bags and they left their dog, so we figured they'd be back. He came back alone, which meant to us that he went to drop off his woman at a hotel. You know, for protection from the cop. The show was over at this point. It lasted a whole cigarette.
We came back downstairs, tuned in to some reality "miracle" show where they show blind kids and people all messed up from debilitating diseases and they make you want to cry because they're so fucked up and they get surgeries and in the end they're all better, and proceeded to talk about what we would do if a mother/daughter combo propositioned us with sex. Our answers:
Big C: "Hell yeah."
Matt: Makes a face.
Me: "I couldn't do it because I'd be thinking the whole time how fucked up they are for doing this. I mean a mother and daughter."
Maybe it's different for dudes. I'd like to hear some thoughts on this. That means you. Go!
posted by deconstructionist at 6:37 AM
3 Comments:
What changed your mind, there, buddy? Did you go to Furr's for lunch and see some candidates?
sigh. i think i've seen too many episodes of gilmore girls that i'd say hell no. ok, i'm sure the gay thing helps, too. but even if it were a hot father and son, there's something really fucked up about them wanting to be in the same threeway. now, if it were hot twins or brothers...
Mando, I think I'm with you on this one. The father/son thing would be too distracting...but twins...there's just something about twins. It's perverted, I know, but you gotta know there are more dudes out there that would rather twins to mother/daughters.
Dirtee birdees! The whole lot of us!
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