Friday, October 06, 2017
The Man Who Progressively Forgot
Left his car at work one day, walked home.
Reported it stolen.
Last straw for wife, Darlie.
She placed him in a school for remembering.
Most of these rackets run by big political
contributors, but his one did some good.
He trained as a domestic.
Ended up serving his wife’s boyfriends.
And girlfriends, for special occasions.
Such as the Women’s Rugby Final televised
from Kuala Lumpur.
He had to remember seventeen kinds of
fancy cocktails and make same.
(Though “Horny Serbian” still a favorite.)
Except for Monica. She just said “Bourbon,
and leave the fuckin bottle.”
And, later, “Make me a sandwich for
a man! Not itsy bitsy canapes!
What do I look like?”
She later put on the kibosh when the
ladies broke out a tape measure
in a slack moment in a game containing
many.
“No more stupid Lady Rituals! His pecker
humongous, all right? Let it go at that.”
At any rate, she proved his only friend.
Eventually adopted him.
A nice story mid depravity.
Some luck out.
Always hope.
Labels: depravity, forgetting, serving, Women wit and humor
