My First Kiss
Before you start thinking that this is another verbalization of the usual mushy adolescent fantasies, let me forewarn you that this article has been written with the sole intent of educating my readers and fellow bloggers about the perils noveau kissers might have to deal with.
My story is set in a small town, a rainy little hamlet by the side of a stinky polluted river. It was, as usual, a rainy afternoon, and I had just come home after splashing about in the stinky polluted river. I plopped onto the sofa and picked at my nose. There is something so blissful about picking one’s nose. Ask any nine year old and he can tell you all about the joys of picking ‘em noses. So there I was, picking my nose and gazing at the telly, when the phone rang. I picked up the phone and it was Mrs Blimpety-Bopp. Mrs Blimpety-Bopp was a very handsome middle-aged lady. She was a good friend of my mother and they often went around spreading dirty gossip about the rest of the women in the village. They really were an adorable pair, my mom and Mrs Blimpety-Bopp. I loved spending time with Mrs Blimpety-Bopp. She was entertaining and made very good macaroni. In fact, that was the only thing she could make, but that’s a different story. The only scary thing about her house was her daughter. Charlene, for that was her name, was a five foot seven, thin legged, wide hipped, blonde haired, blue eyed, cherry lipped, pretty little monster. There is something about thin legged, wide hipped, blonde haired, blue eyed, cherry lipped, pretty little monsters that chills me to the bone. There wasn’t a thing I hated as much as I hated Charlene ( other than mashed potatoes, I guess). Now I was to take Charlene this evening to ‘The Store’. The Store was the hubbub of activity in the little town and Mr.Fillty-Writch, its manager, was the proud owner of the only refrigerator in all of J-ville.
As I skipped along to Mrs Blimpety-Bopp’s house, I felt a churning in my stomach. “Must be the worms I swallowed down at the river”, I said to myself. Charlene was standing at the door, looking pretty and prim. I felt a shiver run down my spine at the sight of her. The softer (and more optimistic) side of me tried to convince me that despite being so pretty, she might actually be quite nice after all under that gorgeous veneer. But the rest(most) of me loathed her and wished to run away. She offered me an arm daintily and I gingerly took her arm, cringing inwardly… t
To be contd…
My story is set in a small town, a rainy little hamlet by the side of a stinky polluted river. It was, as usual, a rainy afternoon, and I had just come home after splashing about in the stinky polluted river. I plopped onto the sofa and picked at my nose. There is something so blissful about picking one’s nose. Ask any nine year old and he can tell you all about the joys of picking ‘em noses. So there I was, picking my nose and gazing at the telly, when the phone rang. I picked up the phone and it was Mrs Blimpety-Bopp. Mrs Blimpety-Bopp was a very handsome middle-aged lady. She was a good friend of my mother and they often went around spreading dirty gossip about the rest of the women in the village. They really were an adorable pair, my mom and Mrs Blimpety-Bopp. I loved spending time with Mrs Blimpety-Bopp. She was entertaining and made very good macaroni. In fact, that was the only thing she could make, but that’s a different story. The only scary thing about her house was her daughter. Charlene, for that was her name, was a five foot seven, thin legged, wide hipped, blonde haired, blue eyed, cherry lipped, pretty little monster. There is something about thin legged, wide hipped, blonde haired, blue eyed, cherry lipped, pretty little monsters that chills me to the bone. There wasn’t a thing I hated as much as I hated Charlene ( other than mashed potatoes, I guess). Now I was to take Charlene this evening to ‘The Store’. The Store was the hubbub of activity in the little town and Mr.Fillty-Writch, its manager, was the proud owner of the only refrigerator in all of J-ville.
As I skipped along to Mrs Blimpety-Bopp’s house, I felt a churning in my stomach. “Must be the worms I swallowed down at the river”, I said to myself. Charlene was standing at the door, looking pretty and prim. I felt a shiver run down my spine at the sight of her. The softer (and more optimistic) side of me tried to convince me that despite being so pretty, she might actually be quite nice after all under that gorgeous veneer. But the rest(most) of me loathed her and wished to run away. She offered me an arm daintily and I gingerly took her arm, cringing inwardly… t
To be contd…
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