Road to Badger Boy: Part 10
SHUT IT OFF; Boobs over breakfast, boobs durrin’ ma’ smoke break, boobs on ma’ shoulder whilt readin’ Koontz, boobs boobs boobs boobs (kinda’ soundin’ likea’ Monty Python skit). Ifs ya’ ever thought dat a man could ever gets tired o’ seein’ whoopee-watermelons all day long well YA’ BETTER BELIVE IT. I won’t even gets inta’ ma’ cooter overwhelm. Cooter? I don’t even know her.
Wells go figure, it turns out dat’ I’ms actually pretty good at ma’ job. Wit sum creative twists frum ma’ “Whack ‘em Cats” callin’ I had a fairly good “Whack ‘em Beaver” spiel goin’ (yeah, I knows it’s a cheap joke, deal wit it).
“Gather ‘round, gather ‘round! Enter da’ Beaver Trap an see parts of a’ woman’s anatomy dat gynecologists have only read about! You sir, you! No bad day ever started wit sum boobs in yer face.” Sweet cripes and candy apples, I’ll need a shower after dis.
Thins really started ta’ go down hill fer me after talkin’ ta’ Skinny an’ tellin’ him bout sum of the carnie games I used ta work. He tooks a real interest inda’ goldfish game wheres ya take a ping-pong ball an’ toss it at a’ cluster o’ goldfish bowls an’s if ya’ get it inta’ the bowl ya’ gets a goldfish ina’ little plastic baggie (NO, you don’t knows where this is goin’ an if ya do yer a sick individual).
Sos da’ next night whatta’ I sees, I sees dat Skinny has advertised game night at da’ Beaver Trap. First game up, da Ping-Pong Catch where “Safire” repeatedly shoots ping-pong balls frum her well trained cooter canal inta’ the gapin’ mouths o’ customers who, if da’ slimy projectile is caught wit der mouth only, gets a free lap dance. Next was da’ Titty Ring Toss followed by a version of da’ Skee-Ball game dat was too disturbing to describe.
Nows I knows and accepted dat’ there’s a lot o’ people who’ll do disgustin’ and degradin’ thin’s fer money, but the defilement o’ da’ carnie game is jus’ too much! I grabbed ma’ stuff an’ ma’ last check an’ walked off. I hit da’ highway wit my thumb out ta’ hitch a ride knowin’ the further I gots from that abomination da’ better I’d feel. Wells the upswing frum all o’ dis is dat’ I haven’t seen da’ inside of an emergency ward in a while.
Wells go figure, it turns out dat’ I’ms actually pretty good at ma’ job. Wit sum creative twists frum ma’ “Whack ‘em Cats” callin’ I had a fairly good “Whack ‘em Beaver” spiel goin’ (yeah, I knows it’s a cheap joke, deal wit it).
“Gather ‘round, gather ‘round! Enter da’ Beaver Trap an see parts of a’ woman’s anatomy dat gynecologists have only read about! You sir, you! No bad day ever started wit sum boobs in yer face.” Sweet cripes and candy apples, I’ll need a shower after dis.
Thins really started ta’ go down hill fer me after talkin’ ta’ Skinny an’ tellin’ him bout sum of the carnie games I used ta work. He tooks a real interest inda’ goldfish game wheres ya take a ping-pong ball an’ toss it at a’ cluster o’ goldfish bowls an’s if ya’ get it inta’ the bowl ya’ gets a goldfish ina’ little plastic baggie (NO, you don’t knows where this is goin’ an if ya do yer a sick individual).
Sos da’ next night whatta’ I sees, I sees dat Skinny has advertised game night at da’ Beaver Trap. First game up, da Ping-Pong Catch where “Safire” repeatedly shoots ping-pong balls frum her well trained cooter canal inta’ the gapin’ mouths o’ customers who, if da’ slimy projectile is caught wit der mouth only, gets a free lap dance. Next was da’ Titty Ring Toss followed by a version of da’ Skee-Ball game dat was too disturbing to describe.
Nows I knows and accepted dat’ there’s a lot o’ people who’ll do disgustin’ and degradin’ thin’s fer money, but the defilement o’ da’ carnie game is jus’ too much! I grabbed ma’ stuff an’ ma’ last check an’ walked off. I hit da’ highway wit my thumb out ta’ hitch a ride knowin’ the further I gots from that abomination da’ better I’d feel. Wells the upswing frum all o’ dis is dat’ I haven’t seen da’ inside of an emergency ward in a while.
posted by Captain Mog at 12:29 PM
6 Comments:
It could have been much worse, Gil. You could have been having sex with Paris Hilton. Compared to that, you've come out of this one smelling like roses.
Rotten roses.
That were just threw up by a drunk donkey.
But roses, nonetheless!
Skee-ball? Oh, my.
I think I can figure this one out, much to my chagrin.
Stay outta the hospital, Gil. That's no place for a carnie.
Unless it's to pocket carelessly left about meds.
So you're on the road again, staring silently at the passing scenery with the grim images racing through your mind of slimy ping pong balls flying into a sea of desperate, upturned faces huh? Bet you're a real fun passenger to pick up right now.
Have you been on vacation as well, Gil? And does this mean that you'll be back soon?
I certainly hope so.
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Yippie! You're back, right? I mean, you did SAY so, so you must be.
Phew.
I was about to call the A-Team to see if you'd been taken hostage by Canadian Beavers, again.
They keep that info on file, and on the D/L.
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