The Daily Wit’s Story For Round 3 Of The RTWS

I Can Remember

I can remember so much about you. I can remember your first camping trip with your friends. “Roughing it” in a suburban backyard, but in your minds, the yard was a forest filled with bulls, bears, and skunks. Well, you didn’t imagine the skunks part. It just smelled like skunks because of your friends’ flatulence.

I can remember y’all told stupid kid jokes that were slightly risque. And that made you feel older.

Jokes like, “Why did the zombie cross the road?”

“I dunno. Why?”

“Because he was trying to screw the chicken!”

I can remember you practicing your motorcycle jumps. Unfortunately, you never got good at it. Just kept racking yourself on the handlebars.

I can remember when you went through puberty. You felt it so important for girls to think you were well-endowed. What didn’t you shove down your pants? I remember you tried everything from packing tape to vegetables. You never got the subtle difference between zucchini and cucumbers.

I can remember that when you weren’t lubed up with baby oil stroking your ferret you were applying Sea Breeze to your face because it looked like a Chicago-style pizza.

I can remember your first hooker. For some crazy reason, her nickname was Shampoo and she took Visa. Hmph. The miracles of the credit card. Man, there were 1001 ways to buy Shampoo. I can remember how you caught a STD from her. You basically had to undergo chemical castration to get rid of it.

I can remember your first major breakup. You kept asking yourself, Should relationships have a black box of post-destruction feedback? as if such a box would enlighten you for future relationships. I remember telling you, “That kind of black box is not going to help you. The only way to get over old box is to get new box.” I then smiled smugly for my witty use of the pun.

I can remember how you called your deceased wife, “Pudding,” to the end. Then you gave everything y’all built up to charity. Working those heaven points a little hard, aren’t you?

“Who am I,” you ask? After all these years, you still don’t know? Given how not well-endowed you are, I can best be described as one of the two grains of sand in your bathing suit. The right one in fact.

You know the one. The testicle that every idiot male says he would give away to make a girl perform a lewd act on him or to get a fancy ride. “I’d give my right nut to have her go down on me. Or, I’d give my right nut to have that Porsche.”

Yep. I’m the right one. One half of the rock group called The Swinging Gentiles. Thank you very much. Look at your left circle of love. The one you never offered to give away. Does he have anything to say? Nope. He just sits there. I’m riding shotgun with a mute.

But you keep in mind who was with you all this time. I can remember. Perhaps you should, too.

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Related posts:

1. Call For Topics For Round 3 Of The Random Topics Writing Series
2. The Topics For Round Three Of The Random Topics Writing Series
3. The Daily Wit’s Story (Random Topics Writing Series)
4. Nanc Twop’s Submission For Round Two of The RTWS
5. Harmony’s Story (Random Topics Writing Series)

Tagged as: creative writing, Humor, Random Topics Writing Series, writing