Im cumming honey he said after dropping his

Im cumming honey he said after dropping his tools in the garage. Jim walked into the kitchen and yelled, "How the f*ck am I supposed to do anything woman with you interrupting me?

She didn't get to her car at the curb before Jim burst from the house. His face was beet red, and he shouted at the top of his lungs, "I'm going to find out who the father is and

give him a cigar and child support contract quicker than you can say 'cheating whore'!" Her mouth fell open as Jim proceeded to

get another television show. It was unfathomable given his beer-stained face and lack of comedic talent. But that famous last name paid dividends. "According to Jim" went on

down fourteen stories out my apartment window. I went to the TV store to replace it, and asked "Do you have one that plays 'According to Jim BEAVER' instead?" Now THAT I'd watch.

The TV saleswoman thought I was hitting on when I said that for some reason & she slipped me her phone #. "I get off at 10," she purred and slinky-walked away. Well, what the heck

is wrong with my face? I put down the paper with the phone number and got distracted by my facial spasms in the mirror. The paper fell onto the floor and then blew into a drain

that was hot and wet. I eventually picked it up, but it was all sticky. The once hard texture of it was now soft, limp, and wet. I had to wipe it off, but not too hard, or else it

might arouse my lust again. I gently cleaned it off and placed it in its receptacle. Satisfied, I wandered off, doomed to roam the night and clean the grotesque without joy.