Toilet Talk

A Cautionary Tale

Suffice it to say, Scamper has had a rough morning. We were in the midst of some much-needed REM cycling when the phone started blasting out its deafening din. A glance at the clock revealed that it was only 5:40 am. We grabbed the phone fully prepared to verbally abuse the caller. Our irritation retreated instantly when our sweet gal pal was heard sobbing hysterically. We tried in vain to understand what was wrong but the poor girl was utterly incoherent. Never let it be said that Scamper isn’t fabulous in a crisis. We announced that we were on the way and high tailed it over to her place.

Since we had almost no information, our mind was racing through the facts that we did have. She had gone on an ill fated first date with a loser who had the audacity to show up with a couple of friends just incase the date was a dud. She left him, though, so that couldn’t have been the problem. She had threatened to salvage her evening with a call to the ex for a roll in the hay. We assumed that we had talked her out of that asinine plan though given that the ex has no redeeming value other than a penchant for creative sex and a large piece of business. That had to be it. She must have called that dirty douche. But why the hysteria? We wondered. Then our mind took us to a dark place. Omg! He must have hit her. We blew through the light, parked erratically and ran up her front steps. The door swung open immediately and there she was. A quick scan revealed no discernible damage so again we were confused. We asked again. What happened? She could only choke out two words between the sobs.

Beach sex. Um…what?

She turned and started to walk to the couch. Only she wasn’t really walking. She was waddling. Legs spread wide and wincing with every painful move. “Ok, just what the hell happened to you” we demanded. Still no words. She just hiked up her night shirt and exposed a sight that would have made our Jewish gynecologist bust out a rosary. We really tried not to display our horror but it would seem that Scamper sometimes makes faces. Oops. We decided to take one for the team and go down under. What we saw, simply can not be unseen. We gently parted the engorged curtains to her promised land and found one hell of a surprise. Apparently, precious had picked up a stowaway on the beach. A sand worm. Usually, they don’t bite but this guy did and he had chewed her up good. Note to self- next time she brags that it tastes like jolly ranchers believe her.

We plucked the unwelcome guest from her unsightly situation, helped her lube it up with Neosporin and attempted to go about our day, although the memory of ill fated beach sex will haunt us for years.

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The Scamper

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