the short fiction by John Updike
to flirt with the cute transexual working at the cash register
you're sending it to a soldier in Iraq
two o'clock in the morning is the slow time of your day
your sister's on pages 69-73
you plan to jack off as soon as you get home
it's something to read on the airplane
to see if they printed your question about stereo speakers
you thought "Peach Fuzz" was a journal for U.S. Produce Inspectors; and "Tweety Pies and Puddy Tats" was for kids- not featured kids. (At least that's what you told the F.B.I. Agent, who found them stashed in your car trunk Monday while executing a federal search warrant obtained Sunday after you emailed a jpeg of your cock Saturday to the undercover officer you thought was a 13 year old Lolita you met online Friday.)
you were sleepwalking because of the meds
you have a big purple birthmark covering half of your face and hideous acne scars on the other half; plus, you're hunchbacked and bucktoothed
your computer's on the fritz
COPYRIGHT 2007-2014 OH BOY! 3LAWNVIEWAGOGO / ALL RIGHTS RESERVED MR.E.
ED SPRINGSTEAD, JR.
