- entirely appropriate for you to laugh
- screamer extraordinaire
- The weird part is what I *do* with the pizzas.
- did more than have dinner together. Duh.
- rub his mouth on my head
Tune in next time part 877 Click Here for Earlier Installments
I assure you, dear reader, that it is entirely appropriate for you to laugh when you picture me attempting to cut my way out of a two-man horse costume using a battery-powered nose hair trimmer. Go ahead and laugh even harder when I tell you my attempt failed. You see, Small Dennis was a screamer extraordinaire, and as soon as he saw what I was up to, he let loose an ear-splitting yelp. While the corduroy costume we shared, and the bathroom walls, would dampen his cries somewhat, I couldn’t take the chance of him drawing Titania to our position. I turned off the trimmer.
“Dude!” I whisper-yelled. “Doesn’t it feel like we’ve been trapped in this horse costume together for months?”
“Yes,” he hissed back. “I could swear we’ve been sweatin’ it up in this thing since, like, November. But that doesn’t matter! The mission matters!”
I sighed. It had been a long time since I’d worked with anyone so dedicated to his cause. “Tell me about this mission of yours.” I hoped he’d be so distracted in the telling that he wouldn’t notice me trying to unstick the zipper. I cautiously slipped my hand out through the hole under the tail.
“I can’t tell you the details, but it involves the pizzeria code. I have to send a message. The weird part is what I *do* with the pizzas. You know, after the message has been sent.”
The pizzeria code was popular among philandering spouses. They wanted their pizza parties to look innocent to outside eyes, but of course the cheaters did more than have dinner together. Duh. My own father had developed the code years before I was born, and he was one of the few to use it outside of extramarital shenanigans (he used it for those, too, of course). Was Small Dennis in league with my evil father? Or just having an affair?
I managed to get the zipper unjammed, and inched it slowly along. I was trying to keep Small Dennis from noticing, but I failed. He tried to whirl around indignantly, but since we were confined together inside a constricting cloth prison, he did something much more like rub his mouth on my head.
He then pounced on me and we fell to the floor in a tangle of sweaty brown corduroy.
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