Gutterballs:
A Heartfelt Apology
Gutterballs:
A Heartfelt Apology
By Biff Lowenstein
Allow
me to introduce myself. Remember that guy who was walking behind you as you left
the bowling alley? You know, the one who you must have thought wanted to race
you, cause you took off like there was some nasty freak chasing you? That was
me. I just wanted to write to apologize. For a few things actually…
First, I was not trying to scare you. You simply intrigued me and I wanted to find out a little more about you. Please let me explain that I am not from this country; I’m Australian. In my country, what I said to you is a standard expression of interest in a person of the opposite sex. I had no idea that you might get offended when I said to you, "Hello, Chickie. I couldn’t help but admire your snatch from across the room. It is rather pungent, after all." We should simply chalk that up to a cultural misunderstanding. I am not a pervert.
A few moments later, when you happened to look back at me, you caught me in a rather odd moment, I must admit. I had gotten two hand cramps (from the bowling balls) and was attempting to work them out. Apparently, this might have seemed as though I were suggesting that I wished to grope your round, firm, buxom breasts. While I’m sure the drool running freely from the corner of my mouth may have added to that interpretation of my intention, that is my usual reaction to pain. Allow me to once again state that I am not a pervert.
|
Let me say that I hope to see you again soon. In fact, I have purchased a pair of high-powered binoculars to assist in this endeavor. |
The next time I caught your attention was, perhaps, the most embarrassing
yet. You see, one of my mates had taken it upon himself to play a bit of a
boner…I mean, prank, on me. While I was busy polishing my balls (They had
gotten a bit scuffed from scraping on the floor and repeatedly striking the
pins), he poured a pouch of talcum down the front of my trousers. I have a bit
of a strange allergy to talc, which explains my reaction. You see, I was not
attempting to be crude by dropping my trousers and shorts; I was merely trying
to clear the talc. Most of it had, unfortunately, collected on the shaft of my
penis, so I was trying to wipe it off. My severe allergic reaction is what
caused my erection and the spontaneous outburst of, "Christ! When that
red-haired temptress bends over, I just need to shoot my load!". It is a
bit
like Tourette's Syndrome, you see. I’d like to take this opportunity to
once again profess my non-perversion.
I’d also like to say that the police you called were rather nice folks. They were kind enough to give me a copy of the arrest report, which listed your name and address. That is how I am writing to you now.
In closing, let me say that I hope to see you again soon. In fact, I have purchased a pair of high-powered binoculars to assist in this endeavor.
Present Issue Table of Contents
May, 1999 Issue Table of Contents
Barely Enlightened
Star Wars Will Not Get You Laid Gutterballs
Employee Handbook How Much is Your Soul Worth? Gospel According to Jack Tips For Living
The American Jerk™ and all contents © 1999 - 2005 by Rob Reuter and Paul St. Fakename, Esq., © 2006 by Rob Reuter.