I Honk for Man Flesh
Was driving to work this morning when I decided to slap a cassette tape in the stereo (no, the '98 Corolla LE did not come with a factory-equipped CD player) because the radio reception sounded like a bowl of corn flakes. Has done all week, I don't know what's up with NPR or my radio or what.Anyway, I'm scooting down Highland Street past the high school and there's a kickass song on, and I'm in a good mood, when up the street comes some old guy pushing an empty grocery cart. I'm guessing he's one of these folks that roots through peoples' recycle bins for soda cans to return.
The morning was on the warm side, especially for early October, but even so I was still kind of taken aback when said recycle-bin-rooter paused on the sidewalk, stopped his grocery cart, and peeled his shirt off, revealing a leathery chest with ever so slightly sagging man-boobs covered in a thick snowy down of fuzz.
For some reason, I honked. And then I honked some more. The song made me all giddy, and there was a guy (albeit old and wrinkly) getting semi-naked. I made a little honky tune with my horn, giggled like a madwoman, and careened through the intersection.
In the rearview mirror I saw him staring at me like I was on crack.
posted by Maquinna @ 12:11 p.m.
1 Comments:
sounds like an erotic story waiting to be written....
dear penthouse,
i always thought these letters were written by your editors, until one sunny, yet cool morning i was collecting cans. I decided to remove my shirt in the warm morning sun, when I was startled by a honking horn.....
anthony bologna
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