One warm day; A comedic rendition.

Here in New England we are reaching another 90 plus degree day. You could call it a heat wave of sorts. Every time it gets like this it brings me back. It’s been 13 years…. For this story all names, places and, occupations will be changed to hide the true hero in this story.

As you all know our real jobs are always hush hush. Well, really only the Queen’s because he’s the Queen. But, for this story I will change my occupation to a Big Mac maker. Thirteen years ago while at McDonalds I was working with my good pal, we will call him Ray Finkle. Ray was a bigger guy who just didn’t give a fuck bout’ nothing. Well, working at McDonalds, Mr. Finkle found him self a new girlfriend down the street at the Burger King. After Mr. Finkle introduced me to her I could tell she was a crazy individual. Finkle would come in and tell us stories of… let’s call her Topanga. It was hard to believe, but Finkle was not one to tell a lie just to gain attention. So the story has validity.

Today reminded me of one of Finkle’s best stories of Topanga. It was a June day, Finkle and I were slaving away at McDonalds. Our shirts soaked from the hot weather and the hard work we put in that day. The sweat was beading on my neck working its way down my back and all the way down, yes my pussy and my crack. (Shout out Owe Jive). Finkle was not shy and would tell me how his undies were wet and he had developed a bad case of mud butt. The end of the day rang and I knew I would be heading to a pool to cool off, Finkle on the other hand was going to go see the love of his life Topanga.

The next day comes and Finkle had some exciting news for me. While making a Big Mac he goes into detail of what happened after work. He drove to Topanga’s house and she met him at the door. They started to get frisky, Finkle tells her, “honey I am gross let me go clean up.” Topanga didn’t like this idea and started ripping Finkle’s clothes off. Thinking he was going to get a little down stairs action she surprised him and started tossing his salad. Finkle, unfamiliar with this act, didn’t mind it and didn’t tell her to stop. My reaction to this was the same you are having right now. He had mud butt, there had to be poop. The sweat. The stench. What hellish world was this girl living in while pleasuring my good friend Finkle in such an intimate fashion? I mentioned all of this to Ray and he confirmed the poop, sweat, stench hellscape Topanga was engulfed in. Honestly, I’m not sure who the bigger hero actually is. Finkle for the crowing accomplishment or Topanga for the Rule #76 no excuses play like a champion attitude.

So when ever I get that bead of sweat that goes down my neck to my back and all the way to my crack I think of my hero, Ray Finkle.