Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Happy Christmas, and a Short, Worthless Story

As I walked back from Target today after buying new socks (first time in perhaps five years; if you wish to imagine what my previous pairs of socks looked like, try to imagine tan swiss cheese shaped like a sock), I strolled through the park near my apartment as I typically do.

In the center of said park is a gazebo, elevated off the ground to about a prepubescent teenager's height. In said gazebo was a large man swinging his arms as someone is wont to do while warming up for some type of exercise. All that was remarkable of him was the fact that he was bald and, as previously stated, large.

However, a sight of red caught my eye. If you, my dearest informed reader, did not already know, red is one of the colors that automatically attracts our eyes. The deeper, the better (that's what she said, most of the time, at least). There are a few evolutionary explanations for this, mostly to do with chimpanzee buttocks, but I digress.

The rouge came from a man's boxer briefs. Why did I see the red of a gentleman's boxer briefs, you ask? Well, there's probably a very good explanation for that, but I certainly don't have it. All I can describe was what I saw: a man, jeans around his knees, palms pressed against the elevated wall of the gazebo, staring into the gazebo at the large stretching man in some strange adoration.

Am I to assume that there was going to be (or had been) some raunchy acts of gazebo-side sodomy? Do people warm up and stretch before outdoor sex? I mean, it would be a good precaution in colder weather; exerting oneself in lower temperatures always has the onus of stiff muscles, erect phallus excluded. Or included.

Regardless of pre-Christmas public fornication, I was simply glad to finally have new pairs of socks.

Happy Christmas.

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