You have never experienced a Twizzler slapping fun time before? Well, well, well my innocent Twizzler slappin' virgin you- I am befuddled at your lack of candy abuse experience! I vow to take your Twizzler slapping virginity and leave you begging for 54 sour straw lashes in my wake...
(Yes, I do realize I have issues, that is precisely why you like me!! Right?)
Any way I suppose I should get to the point of this post which is to expose myself to a little humiliation "Seductress style"
It was roughly 2:30 Am when my head finally concreted the fact that I was to be without slumber this night. I accepted my fate humbly and started to instantly crave sex and/or Jello through a straw. I obviously opted for Jello through a straw because the allure of that scandalous act makes me weak in the knees and trembling with passion. I then had the brilliant idea that the mail should be checked NOW!
This place, for some reason unbeknownst to me, has a gravel covering on the porch and sidewalk.
And even though I know that this gravel sidewalk acts like tiny razor blades impaling my super sweet and sexy feets, I still choose to traverse it, barefoot,,, because that's how I roll, yo.
The walk in that level of pain resembles slapstick comedy at it's best. My hobbling rush to get to the grassy patch in front of the gravel sidewalk that is infested with sticker bush weeds then ensues.
I realize that it might sound silly, trading one level of pain for another, but it still doesn't sound sillier that the fact that there are flip-flops right by the door and I am too lazy/stupid to take the time to don them and avoid this whole pain waltz in the first place.
I finally do get to the driveway and amble down torwards the mailbox, which along with mail, also happens to inhabit a larger than normal spidey and its, stickier than normal web. I have learned to reach in and ever so quickly and stealthily pull the mail out, avoiding both web and webmaker 96% of the time.
This would be the .04% that I dreaded.
As I did the OMG there is a @$%$##@! spider on my ^&%$#@ hand dance,,,,,,, police spotlights catch me in the act.
Oh,,,,, did I forget that they were patrolling more these days and "normal" people are not usually break dancing in front of their mailboxes at 2Am in the morning???
Yes, yes I did!
He edged forward.
I reach down to pull my t-shirt down a bit because I find that I am a little shy in police spotlights........*shrugs* Who knew??
The walk up the driveway and the accompanying dance of pain through the sticker weeds and "shards of glass" gravel sidewalk could only be more animated now that I added the pull the t-shirt down ritual.
His beams were getting closer.....
I too was getting closer to the safety of my door and my hopefully anonymous escape that it offered.
,,,,,this wouldn't really be MY story if that happened now would it?????
.....to be painfully continued.....