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KLRDan -> Moo for me, baby! (6/29/2008 6:33:01 PM)
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Do any of you intentionally drop hints to indicate your perversion when flirting with (apparently) vanilla prospects? I do it quite often, partly because it's fun, and partly because if a girl is going to cross me off her list just because I want her to oink and squeal while I dry-fuck her ass and write words on her back with a marker--you'd be surprised how often I get rejected over such trivialities--I'd rather she do it sooner than later. This is precisely what occurred in the case of Calcium Girl, whose story I will now relate.
Calcium Girl, or Brenda*, was almost as silly as she was pretty, which is saying a lot. In the beginning, she was infatuated with me. Her chief method of flirting consisted of turning quickly in my direction as I passed, fixing me with her wild green eyes, and literally spouting gibberish, a la Adam Sandler in Billy Madison. I confess I had no idea how to respond. All my characteristic suavity simply dissolved in the face of this assault; I couldn't even manage "Your sty or mine", let alone "Come on, baby--let's find out how bacon bits are made." One day she abruptly changed her approach, or at least part of it. The quick head-turn and the wild green eyes remained, but what issued from the captivating lips was now a single syllable, namely, "Moo."
For several weeks Brenda mooed at me. For several weeks I furrowed my brow and asked what that meant, to no avail. I had just resigned myself to an existence filled with nonsensical mooing when Brenda, out of the blue, confessed that she mooed at me because she thought I looked like a Swedish farm boy. You're very tall, she said, and you have blond hair. You're a Swedish farm boy.
I see, I said. A Swedish farm boy.
Uh-huh.
And you moo at me.
Yeah.
Can you see what this is adding up to?
Um...no. Not really.
Not at all?
No.
I think you're saying you want to be my Swedish cow.
No!
Come on, don't deny it. Moo for me, baby!
Oh, God. I'm so embarrassed. I want to kill myself.
Please don't. I can't live without you.
Oh, really, now?
Yeah. Do you have any idea how much calcium supplements cost?
She socked me in the arm and walked away. And that is how Brenda became Calcium Girl.
The tables had turned. The shoe had shifted feet. The bucket had shifted udders. Victory, or something, was mine.
It was now in Brenda's best interest to stop mooing. But the old habit died hard. Several times I saw her bring her lips together as if in preparation for a friendly bovine greeting, only to say "Mm" and stop at the last possible instant to poke out a defiant tongue. These moments presented wonderful opportunities for me to say things like, "How's my little calcium deposit?" and "Fly away with me, Brenda--we'll make beautiful calcium together!"
A short while later, she informed me that she had once found me very cute, until I opened my big fat mouth. I was a perv, she said, and she could never date one of those, no matter how attractive she found him otherwise. I smiled and nodded, content in the knowledge that we had each dodged a bullet. Furthermore, she was engaged, and here was an invitation to the wedding.
Ah, well. Two ships passing in the night. Moo.
*name has been changed to protect the dairy industry
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