Don't You Forget About Me…

Sam and Ralph are enjoying medium double-doubles in their local Tim Hortons. They are debating what to eat next. It’ll probably be something with maple in it, since they are in the middle of the “maple” promotion. It’s when Tim Hortons creates new goodies by putting maple inside just about everything they make — and possibly the bathroom soap as well.

Ralph is leaning towards a maple pecan danish when he sees her walk in.

Her name is Stacey. (At least according to her name tag.)

She is blonde and stunning.

She stands in front of them and puts her hands on her hips. (Which, as you know, is international female sign language for “Boys, you are so fucked right now.”)

She stares directly at Sam.

“You have a LOT of nerve…,” she hisses.

He tries to reply, “I –“

She is not having any of that.

“You sonofabitch!” She begins. “Who in the hell do you think you are? You think you can make love to me and never call me back? You thought I’d let that just slide? You clearly do NOT know who you are messing with. You didn’t think I’d find you? Nobody sleeps with me and doesn’t call. Well, that one guy… in college… But, that’s not the point here. What, you think you were soooo good that you can love ’em or leave ’em? Please! I’ve had more pleasure during a visit to my gynocologist. It was awkward. You clearly had garlic for dinner. I’ve had yawns that lasted longer than you. In fact, I think I yawned WHILE you were ‘ravishing’ me. Plus… plus, you are the double threat of small AND limp. How do you like that, huh? You’d have had better luck trying to push a piece of string into me. And I likely would have enjoyed it more. You tried to blame it on the liquor that night, but you weren’t nearly as drunk as I was. And just one look at you will back up just how soused I must have been. Seriously… You weren’t hit with an ugly stick, you were hammered with a fugly A-bomb. And the garlic smell… I know I already mentioned it, but damn… I was slumming that night. It should have been the greatest night of your life. You should have begged me… BEGGED me to go out with you again. I looooooathe you. No, I mean it. I despise everything about you. From the top of your $5 haircut, to the soles of your dirty old Nikes. You disgust me. Burn in hell, you miserable little fucker. And when I walk away and you look at my ass… Because you know you’ll look at my ass. My ass is like Jennifer Aniston’s in 1996. It is like Eva Longoria’s right now. WHEN you look at my ass, I hope you suffer. I hope it haunts your dreams. Because, you will never, ever get to touch it again. Prick!!”

With that she turns and walks out, knocking over people who are trying to enter.

“Who in the hell was that?,” Ralph asks dumbfoundedly.

“I have never seen that woman before in my life,” Sam replies. “But, she DOES have a killer ass though.”

“Definitely,” Ralph concurs. “So, I’m leaning towards a maple pecan danish.”

“Nice choice,” Sam nods.

0 thoughts on “Don't You Forget About Me…

  1. “…the double threat of small AND limp.” (Snicker)

    “…better luck trying to push a piece of string into me.” (Have I dated this guy before?)

    “You weren’t hit with an ugly stick, you were hammered with a fugly A-bomb.” (Oh shit…I have.)

    Peter…don’t look at my ass as I walk away. It’s like Jennifer Aniston’s in 1996–except a little bit more hair and a lot more tail.

  2. Maple Pecan Danish Indeed!! I wish I could have one right now, but I don’t think they have them here in they? Hmm.
    Great story, the case of the mistaken identity hey, I love it :)

  3. k-m: I am going to ignore an Aniston butt cracks. (Oh yeah, I said it.)

    james: You and me both.

    sara: Feel free. I’ll expect royalty checks in the mail.

    cazzie!!: Welcome! Do they have Tim Hortonseses in Australia?

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