I was relaxing on the front porch earlier today, enjoying a pitcher of mimosas and perusing the morning paper when two scantily clad hussies came frolicking up the walk. I got excited, thinking they might be whores.
“Hello sir,” one of them said.
“Are you the man of the house?” asked the other.
“Well. Let’s put it this way,” I said, smiling. “If someone around here’s sporting more wood than me, I don’t want to know about it. Eh?”
The girls flashed uncomfortable looks at each other, then the blonder of the two continued.
“Yeah, well, we’re like selling magazine subscriptions? For our school trip?”
“Yeah. Do you want to, like, buy any?”
“School?” I said, momentarily distracted from my minute inspection of their cleavage. “What college would that be?”
“Oh, we don’t go to college.”
“Nah, we’re at St. Huggins Academy. Go Nuns!”
A considerable pool of sweat had formed on my brow, the result of my brain run wild with debauched fantasies pressed upon it by these girls’ shapely bodies. I produced a silk handkerchief and patted myself dry.
“N-nuns? Nunsense. Eh, nonsense. You’re too old to be in high school. You’re both twenty, right? Eighteen at the youngest.”
“Nah, I’m sixteen, and Ginger’s fifteen.”
“Fifteen-and-a-half,” Ginger offered.
“What’s that? Eighteen?”
“No… hey, maybe we should be going.”
“Hmm? No, no — uh, why don’t you come in and look at my massive art erection? Er, collection.”
But they were already on the move, muttering to themselves about the creepy old perverts who apparently live in this neighborhood. At that moment Kang came out to freshen my pitcher, hissing and spitting as he did.
“You’re right, my boy,” I said. “They were a couple of bitches.” Then I tossed Kang’s lunch, a handful of peanuts and grapefruit rinds, into a nearby bush, and howled with laughter as he scampered after the dirty pittance. What can I say? I’m not the type of guy to let women get me down. Especially when they’re cockteases.