story time with grampa

Now, February is a very interesting time of the year, gather around kiddies. First there is the bitter cold that drives even the neatest semblance of life and survival from the already cold and oppressive city. Then there is the short month, which in my knowledge is not noticed by the bitches you pay bills, rent and car payments to.

"Tell us a story!" you scream?

Well, I once knew this lass named Polly. One day when we were taking a long walk through the park; it nearing a magical time of twilight and us being in romantic form, we decided to make a stop under a close by Oak tree. I had not had much experience with the lady folk, but I very well understood that there were certain locations on a woman that were prime for a young man's touch. You see though, I had only gotten my hand under the elastic waistband of Polly's white underwear when hearing a snap and feeling a bit of a pinch I pull back quickly. I had just the time to see a drop of blood on my ring finger, when in piecing the moment together I realized that a pal of Polly's tried to take my finger once and for all.

So that is the truest lesson to learn today... Never fondle a woman with a toothed vagina, and that's the goddamn end of my story.. Good night you little shits!