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ResidentSadist -> -=Last I remember, it's daylight, she had really big tits and let me in for free=- (5/5/2010 10:19:34 PM)
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As I write, I am swilling coffee trying to wash the fur off my tongue. Not good fur, like a stray pube from a spontaneous and playful mustache ride with a youthful but brand new lover whom life had only taught to trim it, not shave it. Nope, this was one of those; I just woke up and checked for the blanket because the fur on my tongue made me think I ate it in my sleep. That or an army of 1000 spiders camped in my mouth while the plucked themselves bald for some secret nude spider ritual and they left all their fur behind. If you are a really good detective, you may have already guessed that I just discovered slamming down 5 Icehouse beers in 5 minutes will activate an involuntary nap. Last thing I remember, it was daylight.
Ahhhhhh . . . second cup-o-joe . . . at least I think it is coffee. If I were to call a spade a spade, I would say it is chalky tasting cup of I don't know what but it's thick and darker than Indian ink. I woke up from the involuntary nap to find old coffee grounds and a filter directly in the coffee maker without the basket in place. While taking the old grounds out, the filter ripped on the basket support spilling grounds all through the inside. So now, Mr. Furry Tongue is at the sink with the coffee maker upside down in one hand and the sink sprayer in the other hand. The object here is to get more water flushing through the coffee maker than accidentally sprays on the ceiling. Of all the outcomes in my mind, sitting here shirtless, typing into a CollarMe thread, drinking hot black paste while my shirt hangs over the door dripping water on the floor was not one of them I could have predicted.
Ahhhhhh . . . third cup-o-joe. Hey, they are small cups, not the usual quart sized bowl with a handle you coffee addicts use. It's a regular 8 oz cup. So by your standards, I have had ½ a cup so far ok? Quit fucking with me and let me tell this story will ya?
So the there I am, I'm driving back from Daytona beach and I get a powerful thirst. OK, look, I know it was raining. Yes, I was “driving” on the beach but hey... that makes me thirsty. I drove home, grabbed my wallet and headed to the nearest store to grab a fine tasty beverage. It is an awesome store in an ethic ghetto sort of way. I don't live in the ghetto but this store is kinda' odd, out of place. Some of the products that don't sell have dust on them. I am sure that if you scraped the dust off to read the expiration date, you would discover they were antiques. The people that own the store are awesome. The chick that runs the register is a sweetheart and she picked out the incense I use in my house. But the store is odd, half of it is filled popular items that sell and there is lots of traffic there. The other half is a no fly zone with bad purchases that never sold . . . but they never threw them out either. They just collect dust.
The beer section of the store isn't dusty. When I rolled into the store, I had the car stereo up and was blasting some classic pop-rap, St. Lunatics - Summer in the city. At the same time, some young bruthas were getting out of their Subaru Legacy with $3,000.00 spinners. They flashed me a smile but I couldn't tell if it was a smile of unity because we both drove cool cars or a smile of pity because they caught an old white dude listening to outdated wigger rap. Nonetheless – there they were at the beer cooler. While I was looking around for a cheap beer, something I am not accustomed to is cheap beer. I could be dead ass broke and I would still be a beer snob. But lately, I have been on a budget . . . and I was just thristy. Have you ever been on budget? So I see these guys grab a case of Icehouse beer and I ask “why” they like it compared to all the other piss water American beers . . . only I phrased it a bit differently at the time. They said it tasted good and had a “kick”. Next thing I knew, we were all standing at the check out with our cases Icehouse beer and the charming Indian incense expert is cashing us out.
Ahhhh . . . forth cup of bean soup... errr, I mean “coffee”. Probably my last. So I got home, logged into my fav mass multiplayer video game (Evony) and slammed down a freezing cold Icehouse beer. It was goooooooooooooooood. So I slammed down another... and another. When I say “slammed”, I mean that you open your pie hole and nonstop pour a beer down it. So... 3 beers in 3 minutes and I swore I could feel it! So I drank another one. When I say “drank”, I mean that unlike slamming, you are allowed to breath or blink but... you dont put the beer down until it is gone. Shouldn't take more than 2 minutes at the most. Shortly after finishing my 5th beer, I was distracted from my video game by something I noticed on TV. I also remember thinking that for a big mother fucking Russian guy, I seemed to be getting a buzz off of 5 beers? My last conscious thoughts were that I might be getting too old and losing my game and then I remembered the girl with the big boobs at the beach . . . the next thing I knew, I woke up with a furry tongue.
It all started on the way to the bank. Yes... I was going to the bank and making a deposit. From what I hear, that in itself is reason to celebrate in this economy. It had been raining in torrents all morning. It was now 1pm and the rain slowed to a nice drizzle. I ran off to the bank. I was barefoot and only wore a t-shirt my Joe Boxers (that say “Too Hot To Handle”)and my prescription sunglasses. No wallet, no watch, just keys in hand. I jumped in the caddy and whisked off to the bank. I have an old rap CD in the player and sure enough, as I fire up the CTS and see the welcome message “I Live To Rule”*** I hear Cash Money Millionaires blasting. So I make the bank and the lady in the window and I make biblical jokes about 40 days and nights of rain. Pulling out of the bank, Lil Wayne - Bling Bling hits on the play list. Well, that was all it took, I was off to the beach in the middle of a work day. :)
Now the beaches in Daytona are run by the Parks & Recreation. They will let you drive your car on them if you have a park pass, which I did. My pass was stuck to the lower left corner of the windshield. I get to the beach and it is still raining. Pulling up to the booth, I see this beautiful, chocolate brown, BIG breasted Daytona cougar that was still fit enough to be a beach bunny despite her rather matronly hair style. She informs me that my park pass is expired. I explain that I left my wallet at home and I feel it is here duty to personally escort me from the park with my expired pass. She leaned over so her cleavage was prominent enough to create an echo. I couldn't make out every word but I remember something about if lunch was involved . . . upon which she announced that she was leaving and being off duty, she wasn't going to stop me from entering the beach. I smiled at her... well, I smiled at her boobs anyway. I thanked her and had myself a nice drive in the rain on the beach. Looking at the ocean surf while driving past the Crabby Joe's pier I was thinking about that sexy cougar who let me in for free. I thought, oh yeah, life is good.
Well, the fur has washed away, my story has been told. My sexy girl everhope is somewhere at work on call as a nurse. I am sure the stereo blasted her when she started up the car to go to work. My fellow gamers from around the globe wonder what happened to me as the last thing they saw in chat was “this Icehouse beer ain't so bad”. ... and somewhere there is a darling brown beach cougar with big boobs getting her beauty sleep. All is well here in Datona Beach.
~ The End
***everhope's key triggers the message “I live To Serve”
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