So, the other day I decided to take a walk down to a rather quaint little coffee shop that’s located about six or so blocks away from my house. I had recently just quit my consultancy job at a Micronesian cow-plucking firm where I had been working for a little over two years. I was now back home and found myself wanting nothing more than a honey-dipped doughnut, a small bag of pretzels, and a large, piping hot coffee with way too much sugar.
I entered the coffee shop — gleefully anticipating a relaxing time spent consuming some sugary-sweet treats and a cup of hot joe. Such was not to be my fate, however. As I entered, I noticed a strange woman who appeared as though she was having a fit in the middle of the coffee shop! For a short while, I watched in bewilderment and awe. A voice, from somewhere deep inside my psyche, spoke to me and said: “Keep your eye on this one, Jones! I believe she may be about to turn into a gruddle-poke, or something.”
Needless to say, I was now quite worried. If you don’t know what a gruddle-poke is, then it’s very likely that you, yourself, have never been to Micronesia. In the northern territories, at least, they are quite the nuisance, let me tell you! These annoying beasts are a cross between a gruddle bug and a land-roaming poke-fish. So, I’m sure you can image just what sort of bad news those little devils truly are. And now, here, in this coffee shop, I find myself face to face with a woman who, by all appearances, seems as if she’s right on the verge of transforming into one. No longer was I worried. No, friend– the worry had now turned into a feeling of complete terror. I began screaming loudly. In a state of sheer panic, I bolted for the door. And, as fast as I possibly could, attempted to dart back to my car.
Unfortunately for me, however, in my blind and reckless hurryment, just as I was approaching the exit of the establishment, I slammed straight into another customer– the impact of our meeting sending the two large coffees he had just that moment purchased hurtling through the air. He was not at all pleased. He began yelling at me in a most threatening tone.
“Sorry!” I yelled back. “No time to stop! There’s a gruddle-poke transformation about to happen! You’d best flee the area as well!”
“You son of a bitch!” he screamed back at me. “I’ll kick your gruddle-poke ass, you son of a bitch!”
Judging by how concerned he seemed about me, and how totally unconcerned he seemed about the exceedingly concerning transformation that was about to take place inside the coffee shop, I could tell that this man had, for one, never been to Micronesia, and, as such, for two, didn’t know what a gruddle-poke was, nor how loathsome a creature they actually were.
I ignored the enraged fellow as best I could and continued swiftly to my vehicle. He followed in pursuit. I climbed inside my car, slammed the door shut, locked it, started the car and began to drive off. The angered man jumped on to the hood of my vehicle, still screaming in a fit of absolute rage.
“You mother-fucker! You owe me two coffees! Get out of the car, mother-fucker! I’m going to kick your ass, you son of a bitch!”
I didn’t know what to do. The terrible transformation could be completed at any second and I didn’t want to be anywhere near that place once it was. I had no choice. I pressed the accelerator to the floor and quickly sped off– the enraged individual still standing on the hood of my car. Unfortunately for me, and for my poor car, this only seemed to anger him even more. He began violently kicking at my windshield as I raced down the street.
My windshield was now smashed from the force of his strikes, and I was frantically playing through my options in my head. After a short while, I spied a rather secluded alley-way coming up on the left. I made a quick turn into the alley — the angry man still screaming and kicking at my car. When I was a fair way into the depths of the alley, I stopped the car, exited the vehicle, and shot the man with the .38 caliber revolver I usually carry upon my person– in case I ever run into any fully transformed gruddle-pokes.
This seemed to calm him down somewhat. He fell from the vehicle. His screams turned now into a series of grunts, groans and short-breaths. After a very short time of this, he seemed to drift off to sleep. I was content to let him nap. I jumped back into my car, pulled out of the alley, and continued on my way– still a little worried that a fully transformed gruddle-poke could be close behind.
After driving around for a short while, trying to get my bearings, I began to feel somewhat wound-up from the day’s events. I needed to relax and unwind. I picked up my cell-phone and dialed my friend Harvey Rankle. Or, “Harvey the Party”, as he was known around town.
“Yo, yo, yo! Wassup? Who’s this? Wassup?” came the voice of Harvey from the other end of the line.
“It’s Jones,” I answered back. “You would not believe the day I’ve had! Listen, I need to unwind. What’cha doing? You feel like hitting up a peeler joint, or what?”
“Yo, yo, Jones! You know me and my midget ways,” — Did I mention that Harvey was a midget? — “I is down and I’m game, Jonesy boy! Come pick me up.”
I headed to Harvey’s place where he was already waiting for me outside of his door.
“Wore my lucky blue shirt!” he yelled into the car, as I pulled up alongside of him. “I’m gonna get me some poon-tang tonight!”
“You always do, Harvey.” I replied as he entered the car. “Shirt or no shirt, the ladies always seem to go wild for you.”
Harvey got into the car and we headed off to Club Super-Poon on East Gerber Boulevard. You know the place, I’m sure. The joint was rocking. Hot dancers everywhere. And, Harvey, as usual, was in full-on party mode. Unbeknownst to the club’s bouncers, however, Harvey had sneaked in a bottle of what he called “Harvey’s Homemade Kickaboo Boost Juice” under his shirt. It was a concoction that Harvey made himself from a secret recipe. I don’t know what Harvey put in that stuff, but I do know that once he takes a couple of swigs — look out! It’s mad-man city.
The women in the joint started crowding around Harvey like Italians on a meatball. I knew from experience that what would happen next was nothing I wanted to see. Let’s just say that when Harvey got into that “boost juice” stuff, it wouldn’t be very long before someone was getting penetrated — didn’t matter where he happened to be at the time, or when. And, you did not want to be around when that happened. You were not safe in that situation. When Harvey hit that juice, boy, somebody was getting penetrated. It didn’t matter if you were a man, women, animal of some sort, or an ear of freakin’ corn. When Harvey hit that juice and got that look in his eye, somebody was getting penetrated. And, it would usually be whomever, or whatever, was within closest reach.
I quickly grabbed one of the girls that looked alright to me and gave her my standard line:
“Hey baby, I’ve got money. Give me the love.”
The two of us went to one of the private rooms at the back of the bar. I laid out a hundred dollar bill on the table, along with a line of blow. She stripped to one song, then touched my wiener. I laid out another hundred and another line of blow. She danced to another song, and then we got down to the dirty business — somebody got penetrated. And, this time, it wasn’t by Harvey.
After I had cleaned up, I exited the private room and made my way back into the main bar proper. Harvey was nowhere to be seen. I looked around for a bit but was unable to locate him. Knowing Harvey, though, he was more than capable of taking care of himself. So, I decided to head home and face what was coming to me. You see, I had originally told my Wife that I would only be gone for about half an hour. I told her that I was just running down to the coffee shop for a doughnut and a coffee. That, of course, was over five hours ago. And, I knew that when I got home my pinky would be stinky– there was no way to hide it. My Wife had some sort of sixth-sense type of stinky-pinky super-human detection abilities. She’d know what I had been up to the moment I walked in the door. And, of course, I’m sure she’d be more than curious as to where, exactly, her two-hundred bucks and all of her blow had gone. There was no doubt about it. I was in for a nightmare.
I opened the door to my apartment and slowly entered. My Wife approached…