Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Man And Wet, Wet Naked

The next morning I was horrified to find her bridal flowers in my sore leg. The floral compound fracture made me sick to my stomach just to see it-- but then the smell! It was worse than the smell that wafts from those pits of stripper blood you find in South Carolina and Cameroon. The first time we vacationed in either of those places, I could even smell the smell with my phantom nostrils. There was a striking similarity between the stench of the stripper blood and that of the smoke coming from the windows of the bride's parents' high, high house. And the pain! The blossoming, brightly colored pain, the scaly tips of thorns; this was to be the beginning of finely perceived agony that would last to this very day.

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