Hot Fudge Sundaes...

I think at some point we all go through things that should remain unmentionable, but being a leader among men, I shall dare to cross that barrier of acceptable verses unmentionable.

Last night, after eating a burger and potato salad, I noticed I was having a little discomfort in the lower left quadrant of my stomach. No, I have no medical background, simply my own observation and I was hoping that it would be just a little discomfort. About an hour later, my girlfriend called and invited me over to spend the night. Whippeeeeee!!!

I changed clothes, splashed on a little cologne and I was ready for an evening of romance. I arrived and the door was unlocked. I let myself in and surprised my lady by scaring the shit out of her. One of my favorite arrivals. Because I've already disclosed to you that I was spending the night and I want to salvage her reputation, I won't tell you the name of my lady, just her initials, "MJ".

After watching a cutting edge episode of the Dog Whisperer, MJ's favorite show (boring) she announces that her life is not going well and to make her feel better about herself, we need to go to no other place, but Dairy Queen for hot fudge sundaes. I was a little alarmed to see that she not only knew the exact location of a Dairy Queen, but it's daily hours and a short cut using only side streets to get there. It was when she knew the exact total for 2 medium hot fudge sundaes, that really alarmed me. I handed over the $5.61 and drove back to her house while MJ devoured her sundae in about 1/2 the time it took me.

It was getting late and MJ had to work the next day, so we retired to the bedroom. MJ has no idea that I planned everything, by wearing my new low cut Levi's with the tight butt and she was now powerless to my advances.

After our imaginary cigarette, we watched the news and MJ turned off the lights, saying goodnight. Without warning, my stomach started playing taps with sort of a growling sound and I knew things were not right. Were would the last place in the world you'd want to be when such a thing strikes. That's right, your new girlfriend's bed. I could tell that MJ was already asleep by the steady roar of her snoring and snorting. She also has the ability to simulate the noises that cats make when breeding, all coming from her nose. It's fascinating, really. One day I'd like to record it and play it on America's Funniest Videos, but I digress. Without alerting her to my absence, I slip out from under her hold and stumble my way to the restroom, where I thank God for a noisy exhaust fan. About 15 minutes later and about 2 LB lighter, I crawl back into bed, where I just lay there while my stomach cramps back up.

Completely in the dark, I try not to step on either pup and still find my clothes to dress. Shit, my shoes are in a different room! Stumbling in the dark of a strange house, I suddenly feel like a burglar looking for my shoes. Finding my shoes, I sit on the sofa to put them on and just miss Tilly, MJ's 4 LB dog. With a mini yelp and a growl she goes away to sleep in a safer place.

My plan is to sneak out the garage and use her daughter's garage door opener out of her car, to execute my escape and just bring it back the following day, as she's out of town currently. My problem is, her car is equipped with a built-in garage opener and it's not removable. Still in the dark, I walk into the stackable washer and dryer nose first, ouch! Now I'm looking for a door that goes to the outside so I can just slip out and use the gate to get to my car, still leaving her house locked up. I find that door, but wind up in a storage room.

Tripping my way back to MJ's bedroom where she's sweetly sleeping and snorting, I trip and wake her up. Rubbing her eyes, she says what's wrong, Honey? (She calls me Honey, when she's not mad, yet) I explain my plight and she walks me to the front door and says these words to me as I'm explaining about my poor stomach. "I'm sleepy, don't linger" and I just leave....