S{l}ick Schtick

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We’re pulling into the driveway, and I — feeling better enough to be slightly feisty flirtatious — ask him: Do you wanna make out?

He turns a very eager-looking face toward me in answer.

“Well, we can’t,” I say. “I’m still sick.”

He answers with: Well, is your vagina?

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“So… ” I clarify, “You want to make out with my vagina?”

Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe the birthday man has a plan.

9 thoughts on “S{l}ick Schtick

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