Hot dog, we're gonna have a ball tonight...

Today at work, I was reading over the paperwork of this client, a female named B. Thorpe. And I started laughing, almost uncontrollably. Luckily i was in my office alone when it happened.

See when I was in high school, I attended it with a girl named Thorpe, with the initial B. B was kinda of...well, no not kind of, she was white trash. She was a heavy girl, but she wore tube tops (yeah, I'm cringing now too). She chewed gum with her mouth open and did so frequently. She was loud, whether it was just talking, or the horse laugh she had or whatever. And she propel herself through the halls of school as if she owned them, like she was better than the rest of us. We all knew she was destined to be one of those women who grow to over 500 pounds, wear nothing but flowery mu-mus, have about a dozen kids to at least that meny different men, wear curlers in her hair (even to the store, she'd just throw a scarf over them), have a moustache thicker than Alex Trebeks used to be, and what soap operas and Jerry Springer-esque tv shows while puffing her way through a carton of cigs, and putting away a bottle of whiskey a night. In a trailer. With a screen door that flapped in the wind.

You get the idea, right?

Okay, so anyway, in our senior year, the rumor circulated, although it was later comfirmed by the mother of a student who was a nurse at the hospital, that B arrived at the emergency room the night before. Now I never got the whole story firsthand, but apparently B was...pleasuring herself with three frozen hot dogs. At the same time. And whether they broke off, or just...got lost, I don't know, but two of them (or portions of two of them) got lodged within her and she couldn't get them out and had to go to the hospital.



Yeah, I know it's gross, and sad and cruel and all, but I can't help it, I'm laughing almost to tears even now as I type it. It couldn't happen to a nicer person, I assure you. And so, even now, twenty years after high school, when I encounter a woman with the initial B and named Thorpe, I just laugh like a hyenia.

Just KNEW you'd all want to share in my perverse delight.

POLT = listening to "All These Things That I've Done" by The Killers

Let's swap bodily fluids, baby! - Kyle, Tomcats