HFU HF Underground
General Category => Huh? => Topic started by: Pigmeat on April 05, 2019, 0810 UTC
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I had to wait for the one twin, Mackenzie's, divorce to come through. (She was married to a pop-eyed, bald-headed geek.) She cleaned up. The father of the other twin cousin gave me a bunch of gold tablets, they must weigh a ton. The Church wants me to decipher them, but the only thing I can make out is something about "I will not scratch up Joe Smith's tablets" front and back with the initials "A.F.". I'm going to sell them on the Omani market to be smuggled into India where the price is through the roof. Why heck, I might have enough pocket change to fix Kellyanne Conway's face after this deal, that poor thing.
Al, this marriage thing ain't half bad. You don't know any real girls who might take you up on it, do you?
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According to prophecy, you can't become the god of your own earth, with your celestial wife at your side bearing your space babies for all eternity, if you refuse to wear the holy underwear.
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They said it was o.k. if I went commando, as per my usual practice. It makes it easier to crank out those space kids. Those "See Ya' Later Saints" had never had to deal with a hot humid summer climate and the perils of jock itch. Reasonable men when presented with the facts of an inflamed itchy groin and the perils of wearing drawers of any kind.
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And the neighbors quickly learned to never look you anywhere but the eyes when you were wearing shorts and seated.
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Ew, gross!
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And the neighbors quickly learned to never look you anywhere but the eyes when you were wearing shorts and seated.
Grown men don't wear shorts. They're for little boys and swimmin'.
The best scenario I witnessed similar to the one you're describing involved a Puerto Rican guy I knew in college, Jose. He's walking back to his dorm from football practice wearing a pair of tennis shorts. His d!ck was waving in the breeze and he didn't know it We get up on him, his buddy, J.R., says,"How's it hangin', Joe?" and we crack up. He's wanting to know what we're laughing about? We say, "Look down!" He yells "Oh sh!t!" and sprints for the dorm. Hundreds of people spotted him on that stroll before we wised him up. Too bad there weren't phone cams to capture it. As far as I know he's never lived it down. We made it a rule after he sprinted off to never, ever, date one of his ex's.
Shaddup, Al. You played sports, you know well the perils of the dastardly fungus.