Eating four bean salad before a meeting was

Eating four bean salad before a meeting was a very bad idea. She kept going on and on and won't shut up. If I moved
an inch, I'd shart my pants. So there I sat, clenching my cheeks like fresh fish during his first shower in prison when
Candy approached. She was the best looking cheerleader for the Cowboys. I had to hide but where? Just when
I thought she spotted my furry bear paw, poking out from under the bucket seat
as she got in, but she just sat down, crushing my hairy leg. I suppressed a shriek of pain, so as to not let her know I was there. She shifted from reverse to drive, and away we
went. The leg friction from the bumpy road and body sweat combined to intertwine her leg hairs with mine. When she finally got off my lap, there was an audible Velcro rip sound.
I was instantly reminded of a pair of lavender shoes my parents had bought me as a child. As much as the tear of velcro, it was the general aroma of feet and disappointment.
To this day, I hate the color lavender. Also, I hate the smell of feet and the sound of velcro, to smaller degrees. Since then, I insist that all my fastenings are snap buttons.
I thought these neurosis were only temporary at first, but when I woke up to nightmares of light purple and Sketcher's sneakers I knew I had a serious problem. The only way to help
my condition was Jim Beam and Ambien. My doctor called it "stupid," I called it Jimbien. He couldn't help me now, there was only one option. As I drifted to sleep, I wept for her.

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