Knock knock.
The tiniest of sounds on the door to my apartment. I didn’t even hear it, but one of the boys did. I didn’t buzz anybody in, so I was a bit nervous. I don’t want to buy anything right now.
I opened the door to see a young woman selling magazines. You know the kind, they’re selling ’em to make money, or earn points, or some such thing. Hmmm, that miniskirt isn’t covering that much, but it’s hot out today.
Unfortunately she was a bit cute. And since it’s been quite a while since that’s happened, I listened for a bit. That crop top definitely helped in making my decision.
She looked a little hot standing in the doorway. She asked if she could come in while she showed me the magazine choices. Sure! Aw hell, you want to sit at the table? Stupid me…
Then the boys began acting up. Just a little bit, just to take away a bit of my attention. My your tummy looks nice. You must work out?
The boys started showing off. I remember a fleeting thought about what could happen if she decided she liked the boys… anybody who likes the boys is OK in my book. Hey! It’s not my fault I keep looking at you like that, you’ve got glitter all over your shirt. It’s SHINY!
She started telling me some of the exotic places she could go from this promotion and that she could take a friend. Of course she made the requisite joke about me going along. Hmm, Is my passport current?
She made the expected personal plea to help her out. Wow does she ever have nice eyes. Where’s my #@!%ing checkbook?
After she concluded the sale she wrote some letters on the receipt and gave me 10 seconds to guess what they meant; if I guessed correctly, she’d stop back and wash/wax my car. For the love of… yeah, I know, it’s BS, but she already looks good now. Imagine a sponge, soap bucket, etc…. holy hell.
WTF? How did that happen? What the hell am I going to do with 20 copies of Home and Garden?!?