What About Chartreuse Pamplemousse Indeed
condoms scattered around- unfuck them one by one
- the melancholy croaking of innumerable penguins
- kissed hers with exceptional vivacity
- butterscotch pudding and The Price is Right
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What about Chartreuse Pamplemousse indeed. I pictured him walking in on us in the honeymoon suite, with used condoms scattered around the bed like obscene banana peels. I’d never met this infamous eye doctor and scion of House Pamplemousse, but I envisioned a hulking maniac bent on vengeance, seeking justice by making me track down all my former lovers and unfuck them one by one.
It was snowing again, and when the organist began the recessional I mistook it for the melancholy croaking of innumerable penguins. But there were only the two penguins, as per Bumpengryndian wedding custom, and Hildegard crouched down and kissed hers with exceptional vivacity. Not wanting to prolong this ordeal, I gave mine a demure smooch on its cheek.
I sighed. “Time for Netflix and chill?” I asked, once the officiant was safely out of earshot.
“What? Oh, we don’t really use that expression here,” Hildegard said. She added in a husky voice, “We say ‘butterscotch pudding and The Price is Right.’ And we mean it literally.”
bonus points for using them in order