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That Night at the Waffle House

All right, first off, it's a monsoon out there, that's why I look like this. What? Do you guys not have the same problem? A-heh heh...hey, hey, who the hell said “washed up" out there? Ferret in the back? Blue shirt? It had to be you. It was? Fuck you! Heh heh heh...no, but seriously ? props to the manager for making this all happen!

What's good, Cincinnati? My name's Donnie Dookin! Here at the...the, wait, what's this place called again? The Dr-...what? The Drunken Wolf Belly? Nice. Great to be here! Y'know, I wasn't planning on doing a show tonight, but I had to pull over real quick, on behalf of all of my mental health. See, I drive an old, shitty Sedan with shitty tires and shitty mileage and shitty windshield wipers. They're the kinds that wipe with a little sausage-y rubber thing attached to it. Works fine, whatever...until it starts coming undone.

Look, I'm an easy going guy, but when I've got some rubber shit flopping around my windshield, I start to lose my cool. And I'm sitting there, driving at like, eighty miles an hour, watching this big dildo hit the windshield over and over again like, “All right, buddy, I get it." And then it finally breaks me. So I pull over, push it back, sit back down, then drive down the next two and a half miles, and then start the whole thing over again. I'm like, two seconds away from just taking the whole thing and snorting coke off the hood of the car at this point.

I gotta get creative with that, man! Maybe I'll start picking up random hitchhikers and wait for it to start flopping. Then I'll just give 'em one of these sly-ass smirks from the corner of my mouth and wait for them to make a move. That's like a lottery, right? I could get anything between a cute guy's number and a suspiciously timed rant about why gays shouldn't be the military!

You like that? Nice, I had that joke in the glove compartment for like, a week. I wasn't really in the zone when I wrote it. Pop quiz: when's the hardest time to write a punchline? Two seconds after it happened. So yeah, I'm on the side of the road, I'm soaked, it's dark, the rain sounds like fuckin' D-Day, and you know what? That scares me. I'm a hyena, we get scared of rain. The GDP goes lower than the shit in my couch cushions and we'd still laugh at it, but rain? God help me.

But now I've got a cigarette in my hand, the other one inside my pocket with a lighter, my phone, and like, three other loose things. My jacket can hold a lot. I actually don't think I'd be that bad about smoking if I just had smaller pockets. That's why I kinda envy women, right? Womens' pockets can hold about two lipsticks and a Yankee Candle coupon before it starts tearing apart. That's probably how ripped jeans caught on, right? I mean...all right, I know, heh heh.

Anyway, I roll down the window and treat myself to a few smokes before stuffing the ashes in a jar with the rest of 'em and hit the road again. Then, again, two and a half miles, gotta change it, two and a half miles, at this point, I can feel it flopping in my soul. And that hurts. I'm bored, and I'm hurting deeply. When I'm bored, for some reason, that's when I go full out heterosexual. You ever felt that? That's when all I wanna do is roll down the windows, put some shades on and jack off in the back of my car to some bomb ass human porn. But more importantly, though, I get hungry as fuck.

So, I decide to take the next exit to downtown. It's like, two in the morning, so all the buildings are dark. But there's one store at this one plaza down at Greentip Avenue that stands out among them all. It never closes. Ever. Ever! That's commitment. Say it with me, folks: the waffle house!

I park my car, and no one else there besides some random Explorer. Nice view! Got the stars in the background, shadowy treetops, the “WAFFLE HOUSE" letters over that bright, obnoxious yellow, and obviously I've been hungry for too long 'cause I'm describing a waffle house like it's fucking Apollo's chariot. I see the “Open" sign right below the doorknob and just lick my lips. God, I can't wait to eat that fuckin' sign.

So the door rings when I open it, and that waffle house air just hits me like a truck. Like, you ever go to a totally new place and it just smells like something you've never experienced? Yeah, to put it in a sentence, it felt like it was bending me over and fucking my asshole. Same with the look, too. It was some decrepit 50s-era diner without the buyer's remorse or the crippling depression. The lights are buzzy, they've got “Africa" playing on the loudspeaker, and for some reason there's like, one camera in the room that's got a weird strip of duct tape over it. I'm like, “Okay, seriously, where's the dead body?" I'm about to head out the door....

...and then I notice something...audacious.

It was out of the corner of my eye. I turn, and there's this cute faced curvy red panda waitress holding a broom in her hands like ? wait, I actually need the mic stand for this ? this, kinda like she's trying to restrain herself from taking the world's biggest piss on a bus sign. I'm like, “Hi, how are you?" and she's like, “Oh, hi, welcome to the Waffle House! I'll direct you to your seat and I'll hand you the-" oh right, one detail I forgot: she's completely butt-ass naked!

...

Needless to say...that was the turning point for both our nights! And to be fair, she's not...totally naked! She had a white apron on, so I guess that counts? It goes all the way down to her ankles, but it's just barely covering her body, so the sides of her tits are peeking out. I'm thinking, “Damn, this girl has not changed since I last saw her." Oh yeah: you heard that right. I know this girl. And she knows me. And it's been three whole years. She looks at me and goes, “...Hey, Donnie."

“What are you doing here, Pumpkin?" I asked all sexy-like. Okay, fine, I lied...her name's Sally, not Pumpkin. Okay, no, that's...the coverup lie. I kinda...sorta...sounded like I was cumming my pants when I said it. “WHUHAWYHUD-D-DOINHEREPPHHMIMPKINZ?"

And she goes, “Just...my job." I'm like, “I thought you were still at Oakland University?" Shout out. And she says “I, uh...left?" Big ass smile on her face. I said, “What, they didn't let you get your clothes first?" Honestly, I was thinking of letting her borrow some of mine, right? Be a bit of a gentleman!

She doesn't respond for a bit, so I decide, you know what? I'm gonna get something off my chest. I asked her, “Are you still mad that I fucked the shit out of the cheerleader during our last relationship?" I came off a little thick. But she says, yeah, sure! What a damn relief.

It's still awkward as hell in here, though, and she's like, “I just thought that nobody would come around this time of night…." and I said, “Well, you thought wrong, toots," approached her like this, trying to pull some knockout line out of my ass, but like I said, it was two in the morning, so all that came out was the stupidest shit in the world like, “now lemme get some steak and eggs with a side o' you!"

Quick aside before you guys start calling the police: she loves this shit. The corny jokes, the whole “Oh no, you walked in on me naked!" thing. I never got it myself, but she goes nuts over it. When you're looking for a girl, you gotta find out what makes her go crazy ASAP. Listen very closely to what she says. Shopping sprees, sex ? whatever it is, you vibe with that without being too obnoxious, and she'll be giving you head before you even leave the Stop & Shop.

What? You guys never get it on in the produce aisle? Don't knock until you try it.

Anyway, she gets all excited and runs to the jukebox. And of course my dick's poking my jeans already, 'cause her apron is backless and her ass is just...it's beautiful. You guys ever have that friend who you just know has been going hard on leg day, but you can't compliment them because of how perverted it sounds? I mean, she's curvy, so not muscular, but god damn, I could really use to be a socially inept pervert right now. For like, a fraction of a second! We'd just never speak of it ever again, and it'd all be good!

So she's up in my face now, and we start making out. She's got on strawberry lip gloss. Yes please. Put that shit in my mouth. We started feeling each other up, and I'm feeling her up underneath the apron, 'til my hands get a little second base action. Then I go for the waist. Then her hips, her legs, I think you get the picture. Basically, she's like silk wrapped in honey wrapped in chocolate wrapped in a million dollars and a private jet to Big Titty Island, it's a fucking Christmas miracle.

So I unhook her apron, and she starts pulling down my boxers and jeans. I start kissing her real hard; so hard that she starts fumbling backwards, I start shuffling with my pants around my ankles to keep up in a straight line, until I ended up slamming her into a table. Which I thought was pretty rude. But she didn't. Women are mysterious creatures.

So we were just making out in the formation of two sexy Tetris L-blocks while forgetting that the rest of the world exists. And of course I still got my hands on her tits, cause why not, I can do that. I had a split second thought of what the janitor would imagine if they saw this, but then I was like, wait, she is the janitor, so….

And that's when the sex began!

So the table starts rocking back and forth, her ears go back, she's moaning all breath-y..now, some people at this point would start dirty talking. I, personally, like to suck on her tits. 'Cause you're not a man until you've sucked on some good titties. Lao-confuscits-tsu or someone said it in...fuckin', 1983? I dunno, anyway, I put my hand over to stroke her cheek, and she opened her mouth. I'm like, “Damn, okay," and put my thumb in, my other hand around her hip; by this point, I'm like, really into it. She's even making me moan. Sign of a keeper. And it's at that point when I realize one of the windows has been a crack open the whole time. Some old lady gives me an evil eye as I'm chewing on her nipples...I'm kidding, I'm kidding, that didn't happen!

So she bites her lip and then wraps her legs around me, which I think is code for, “Hey, look how long my legs are!" She's shivering as I'm feeling up all her sensitive bits, definitely squealing like, four octaves above what a normal red panda's range should go. I gotta go for the grand finale! So I grabbed onto her waist and just gave her one last RRRMMMPH, like this. Like, is what I'm doing a good enough visual? What if I-no. Heh heh. Anyway, she went “OOOOUUUHHHYEAAAHH" and came all over me. It was perfect. It was an amazing end to a night I'll never forget.

Until the table broke.

Right down the fucking middle! She slides off the right half, “AAAAAHHH", and all that's left is the broken stub in the middle while both of us just start dying laughing on the spot! Table number ten! Rest in peace!

All right, so, pros and cons: that was the funniest shit I've ever seen, and I got to fuck my ex-girlfriend on the spot. Cons: that was more effective reverse viagra than finding out your spouse works for the LAPD. I didn't even cum! My dick goes totally limp, and any guy knows that's when the rose colored glasses come off. I'm looking at the scene I caused in pure horror, Sally's curled up on the ground, wood chips scattered all over the place like a children's playground...wait, actually, don't visualize that whole scenario too hard. I...no, seriously. Jesus Christ! Anyway, I start thinking, how are we gonna clean this up? I take her by the hand and help her wobbly knees up.

So I look her in the eye and say, “Climax for a climax, right?" She says, “Yeah, it was..." all embarrassed. Then I kissed her again, scored a couple more points in the endzone. Then I take a look at the table and go, “You got a busboy around here?" And now I've got her staring at it in realization, and she's like, “Ohmygod! Ohmygod! What are we gonna d-?" I said, “Relax, honey, we'll put the pieces in a supply closet and tell them two dudes got into a fight." She looks at me and says, “First of all, that's locked, secondly, what do you mean 'them?'" I said, “The custodian! The janitor! Aren't you one of them? Why don't you have 'em?"

Okay, turns out, there's two closets: one that's big and locked behind a door with all the extra construction work and machines for the custodian, and the other's just a little rack of janitor tools for the clerks that work overtime. Which is amazing, 'cause now we have to fuck with some high class janitors just to get away with our fuckfest. I said, “How did we end up in a situation where the custodian is more high class than the cameras?" And she's like, “I don't know, but we haven't seen that busboy in a while…."

So, we can't hide the table. We can't throw it away, either, cause they have every table numbered, and it's really hard to not file a police report after my fake story. I'm starting to think I'm fucked, I'm panicking, I'm this and that...and then I look at the menu right over the cashier. Turns out, this is one of those restaurants that has one of those twenty pound pancakes they give as a challenge to anybody with the gall to shovel that much into their mouths. Well, this table had to be weak already, right? Some guy walked in drunk off his ass at two in the morning, bought one of those things, ate the whole thing, then collapsed onto the table. Genius. It's GENIUS!

But then she's like, “That takes a lot of food, and the next batch of supplies doesn't come until Sunday." Who delivers supplies on Sunday, anyway? “Oh boy! Sunday! Time to fire up the truck to deliver some pancakes across the I-71 at five in the morning! VRRRRRRR!"

So then I'm like, okay...why don't I just take all the ingredients myself? I'm sure I got enough space in the fridge and pantry. We'll sneak some back to the store every now and then, and we'll all be totally silent about it. Maybe she can come and chat over some waffles. Make fuckin' Fort Knox with all the boxes we've got. So I go to the back room, she's like, “No, Donnie! That's stealing!" and I'm like, “No, Sally, it's self preservation."

But she's still kind of on my ass when I walk into the back rooms, and I can't figure out why. I look around for the food room. Food...room. Kitchen? I'm...look, I watched a lot of Kitchen Nightmares and thought every restaurant had that huge food locker in the back that was fuckin' rotting. I was lookin' for that!

So I'm blocking her out, 'cause I see one of those heavy looking push doors, and I'm like, “THIS IS IT! THIS HAS TO BE THE FOOD PLACE!" I give it a push, and all of a sudden, I feel this huge gust of wind and rain hit me like the Armageddon in slow motion.

Apparently this is the door to the back of the building. There's two strong orange lights overhead leading out to the dumpster. Just beyond that, I see a small bed of straw hiding right under an overpass of dirt. And I can see two feral raccoons in there, all snuggled up and warm...biting the shit out of some torn up fabric. And I'm staring at this for a while, real good, and I'm like…that can't be what I think it is, right?

...And all the pieces come together!

Listen...I dunno what look I had on my face! Really, I don't! But I gave it to her once, and a millisecond later, she starts running her mouth like, “Okay, fine! Let me explain! I just wanted to air out! I took my clothes off and stretched and I wasn't looking and all of a sudden they were gone and I didn't know what to do!"

Yeah. Some people go out for a smoke. Some people go out to get a breath of fresh air. This girl? “It is time to part ways with the cloth."

What do clothes even taste like to raccoons? Do they like chewing on something tough like jeans, or would they prefer the softness of some nice panties? That'd be cool. That's like, pussy flavored marshmallows. What if there was a flavored condom in the pocket? Would that be, like, an entree, or a garnish?

Honestly, you'd never experience this as a man. If that was me, those raccoons would take one sniff of my boxers and just drop dead on the spot. Like, one second, plonk, dead. It's like that one scene from The Hunger Games where they're running from the steam, just boils coming out of their fuckin' skulls as a cannon fires in the background, “Doooo dooooo dooooo doooooo!" Yeah, I know, I can't whistle….

Heh heh…alright, Cincinnati, you and your professional whistlers!

Anyway, we get to where they have the food, she's all embarrassed 'cause she isn't used to this. I ask her for the ingredients, she shows me a recipe book, and instantly, all the light leaves my eyes. It's just...so much shit, like nine boxes of pancake mix, three sticks of butter, nine hundred eggs or whatever, and I'm just shoving all this shit in my pockets 'cause I don't have anything else to carry it with. I have to start making a bunch of trips to the car with like, an eighth of the ingredients at a time, and she's giving me this kind of wide-eyed look as I'm goin' back and forth...I swear to god, it looks like I'm winning her back. You know why? 'Cause she doesn't try to stop me. Maybe it's because my head fur got that Fabio look from the rain? Does it look like that now? You guys get the picture. Now that's getting me excited, too, cause she's starting to get my whole plan here.

Halfway into it I said, “Crazy how they don't have any more cameras here, huh?" She goes, “In a way, I kinda wish they did." I love this girl. She's still kinda looking at me all horny.

I ask, “You still up for more?" She says, “Well, I still feel bad that you didn't cum." And I'm like, “Nah, it's fine," but then she insists in this smooth-as-butter voice, “You know, I haven't had my lunch break yet!" Oh-ho-ho-ho, okay. I think I get it, now. No hesitation whatsoever I'm like, “Did the raccoons take it?"

...ugh….

I still feel like she was holding back a recoil, but all in all, she's totally fine with it. 'Cause looks at me with those eyes and says, “Might as well get even with me!"

My heart's like, screaming. It's not even beating anymore, it's just...screaming. Of course I start taking off my clothes. I'm feelin' kinda sensual to her. Like, you know me, I'd never do this for some kind of stranger, right? I toss them on the floor in a fuckin' pile, but I kept the leather jacket on, just cause I thought I looked cool with it. She, I swear to god, started groaning when she saw me, and I'm like, “Ma'am, all I'm doing is setting the tone."

So, she's on her knees and starts licking underneath my foreskin. I'm already hard, she's winking, starts getting more into it. I start to feel something weird and bulbous every now and then, and then I'm like...holy shit, she has a tongue piercing? Okay, okay, I'm nuts for those, so I compliment her for it and sit back. She starts bobbing up and down, and don't get me wrong, I'm on cloud nine, but then I get that really weird feeling that I don't know what to do with my hands. You guys ever felt that? To everybody who doesn't: it's basically the exact same feeling every atheist thinks the second they walk into a church, like, “I'm pretty sure I know the rules, but, like, walk me through this last step…."

So like the fashion professional I am, I just kinda...put them in my jacket pockets?

“Hello, miss. You are doing a reasonable job. I would be ecstatic for you to continue the fellatio."

So she takes it out for one minute and says, “So tell me what brought you here!" then goes back to sucking me off. I get a cigarette for this one, 'cause I'm an asshole, and tell her, “Sweetie, that's not important."

But I tell her about how I've been touring from bar to bar for the better half of the year now, staying at nights in motels, just trying to find my way around. Figured I'd just drop by here 'cause I was hungry and a little lonely. By the way, guys; this is totally not how I said it. I'm convulsing on like, every third syllable, my eye's twitching, “AUUUGHHOOOHHMMFUHKINGGOD," all seven circles of Hell start opening under us….

And I just explode in her mouth. She swallows every drop while I'm moaning out loud like a fuckin' idiot. When I'm finally done, I flinch. Right through the open window...right through it, was the headlights of someone's parked car.

So we both start freaking out, 'cause we don't know if he saw us, but he's sure as hell looking to come in! I started for the back room, but she's like, “No! No! They'll find you there!" I have no idea what she means by this, but my mind's totally blank at this point, so I'm looking, I'm looking....and suddenly, I've got it.

Craziest shit I've ever done...so, above me is some ceiling tiles, the ones that you can push up and move around. My mind goes blank and the next thing I do is jump up as high as I possibly can, suckerpunch one of the tiles, and then just heave half my body up into the little cove inside.

She's almost laughing at me, but she pushes me up both legs at a time, we're closer, we're closer…! And somehow, I'm all the way through. So now my face and legs are full of ceiling and I can't move at all, but god damn, did I stick the landing! Perfect, right?

Yeah, except for the fact that my pelvis was stuck in the damn hole. And then I was stuck. My entire body.

Basically, my hard dick was hanging from the ceiling.

So I'm quietly freaking the fuck out 'cause I'm just now realizing that Sally's still totally naked. And now I'm hearing footsteps in the room. Everything else is silent, and the first thing this motherfucker says is:

“Why is the floor covered in wood shavings?"

Has it ever crossed your mind how you'd explain to God why you have an erection at the gates? Yeah, that's pretty much what I was thinking! But for some god forsaken reason, Sally's not getting yelled at, 'cause she's like, “Welcome, Mr. Flip! I didn't think you'd come at this time!" She knows this guy, huh...and he's like, “It's a surprise visit, I'm here to inspect the premises." This guy's a health inspector working the night shift. Who the fuck does the night shift as a health inspector? Is your job really that riveting?

Wait, but it gets worse. Oh, it gets so much worse. He follows up with, “I'm here to inspect the food and the tables and buhbuhbuhbuhbuh, oh, and my records indicate your rent is up on table number ten, do you have it anywhere?"

…

And yeah, we're both fuckin' silent! Dude, how the fuck did they rent out one specific table and somehow made it the shittiest one in the room? That's like having six wives and nine kids and then saying, “You know what, I think this family needs a prostitute." And it's worse because for all I know, that's this guy's favorite table to snort some coke off of with his buddies in the basement. Like, what's the ten stand for? The amount of lines he goes through in a day?

So, the first thing Sally says is, “Some of the table's underside scratched off, so we're fixing it in the back room." Coke guy's not buying it. He's like, “May I see it?" And in that moment, I feel like we had this connection of genuine discomfort. Like, she gets all silent, and I know she's trying not to bring attention to the complementary ceiling cock. I'm just up here praying that I won't break all the way through! But she fucks it up. She caves. And you know what? She kinda had to. There was nowhere to go with that. I hear footsteps to the back of the room until it suddenly disappears. They start talking, they start talking, and I start being able to wiggle my hands and feet a bit. I'm thinking, “Is this my chance? Do I really make a run for it?"

Nope, can't do that. Bad idea. Worst idea ever. The Adolf Hitler of ideas. Let me tell you why:

She tells him that she was hearing weird noises from the pipes and called a mechanic to check it out. He couldn't reach the ceiling and she had just washed the counters, so he brought up a table, instead. Then he started jumping up and down trying to reach it. He eventually did, but then the table broke from underneath him at the same time his pants fell around his ankles, and in sheer panic, he hauled himself up into the ceiling, lingered a bit, and then passed out in exhaustion!

And of course...he says it again: “May I see it?"

You know what this is? This is the opposite of the Tell-Tale Heart. 'Cause this guy took one look up and got an eyeful of my hard dick dangling around like a total fucking moron. I'm feeling, like, six emotions that didn't even exist, 'cause I know that he's seeing my dick, and they're probably gonna call the cops to get me out...

...but then he just goes, “...Okay."

And then there's this tangible stretch of complete silence between them where you could literally feel the bullshit radiating off of both of us. It's like logging onto Twitter before anything loads. 'Cause I'm just sitting there like, "...Okay?!" What's okay?! Do ceiling dicks happen frequently in this man's life? That sounds like a symptom for dementia! What if he's some weird fetish, and he just hires people to come over and become the ceiling dick? He's got, like, a hole in the ceiling right above the bed just cut out for the specific occasion….

I'm like, “Okay, you know what? Enough bullshit has happened today, so let's just let this one ride itself out."

So then Coke Guy goes through the rest of the waffle house, cleaning up all the tables while I'm trying not to make any sudden movements. The whole room probably looks like some oddly homo-erotic Picasso painting. He takes like, ten minutes, which is a FULL. TEN! MINUTES! Of my stupid, naked dick just chilling up there. And right before he leaves, I hear him very distinctly say, “Tomorrow night?" She says nothing, and then, same guy, “Okay."

And when I get down from the ceiling, I ask, “What did he mean by that?" She's like, “Oh, that was for the table, he's coming to get it tomorrow night." I'm like, “Phew! Then why didn't you just say 'Yeah' or something?" And she's like, “I'm the strong, silent type."

That really made me stop for a moment. I just sat there and started piecing everything together. I slowly but surely began to realize....she just came up with a perfectly good explanation for the table. Like, there's no reason she can't tell her boss that exact same story again, because now we have a witness. So, this girl just completely blew my mind. I'm not gonna lie, I started feeling like I was falling in love again.

For real, that makes me feel special! It's rare for a man to feel that way, but all night's been nothing but net for her. But, you know what? I also feel kinda one-upped. Yeah! I did! Like, how am I supposed to be making this girl's night after she erased all of my bullshit in one fell swoop?

So I said, “You know, that really makes me want to eat your pussy."

Then I took her to the other side of the counter. I'm grabbing her boobs, feeling through her fur again, and I just start slowly lowering down on her. I pull her pants down...my pants, anyway, put my muzzle underneath the apron and start eating her out while she's still standing. I can hear her gasp in surprise, and I just feel around her thighs a bit as I commit a little more. By the way, is it weird when I talk about eating pussy in this much detail? I mean, I know you've all got families at home, but I'm just….

I'll be submitting my essay at the end of class, Mrs. Bartender.

After about five minutes of...not...having oxygen, she's getting really into it, starting to buck down into me. She starts moaning out ridiculously loud as I can see her looking out the windows, so I start feeling up her butt, sucking her clit, doing anything I can to make it work. And in the next second, she cums. So, uh...there's my answer.

Now, I'm looking up at her, pawing away the apron so I can see, but I can already tell something's wrong. Her thighs are kinda tense, and she's not trying to drown me anymore. I look up, and she has this gaping-mouth look on her face. It was a tragic orgasm. I'm like, “Hey, you okay?"

And then...guess what? The door opens up again.

So I'm like, “Oh shit, I'm in it for it now," but then I realize, “Wait...I can just not go anywhere!" 'Cause as long as I'm still behind the counter, I'm practically fuckin' invisible! So I just buried my tongue in that pussy, making her hold in a squeal as she closed her legs around me. Like I said...I can't let the lady one up me. And I know she's loving it, too, cause she isn't trying to kick me or fight back or anything. In fact, she actually started grinding against me, and I was wondering at that point if she was trying to get caught.

The dude comes in, and you know what he says? “That cannot be your uniform."

I'm thinking, Bitch, what the fuck do you gotta do with it? But she's like, “Wh-what can I get you?" He says, “Not lookin' for much, just a glass of water or something." She says, “You sure I can't f-fix you up a waffle?"

I'm thinking, Sally, that is literally the polar opposite of what he asked for...

And he says, “No, I'm not all that hungry tonight." Starts talking about how he just ate a bunch of cheese balls with the boys. But Sally goes, “Okay, are you sure?" My mouth's full of vulva, so I couldn't scream, “Sally, he's pretty fuckin' sure!" So he gives in and says, “All right, one," cash register goes ding, and she tells him it's coming right up.

And then ten seconds later she cums in my mouth. So, uh...perfect form?

Anyway, I know at this point I can't get up, so I'm just chilling out down there. At this point, all I have to do is nothing; if a meteor hits the place, whatever, I'd die happy. So she goes back, makes him the waffle, brings it out, and I'm sitting here waiting for her to come back around, but she doesn't. I just keep waiting, and waiting, and waiting...and, nope, still with the guy. Ever since she sat down, they've been low talking to each other. None of the details make sense. I'm like, okay...some shit's hitting the fan. So I'm putting my ear to the table, I'm squinting, I don't even know why, I guess I needed to see the sound waves, and then out of fucking nowhere, she says, “You know you don't have to hide, Donnie!"

I have all this pent up energy, I jump up and I'm like, “What the fuck do you mean I don't have to hide?!" She's sitting next to some kangaroo guy, who pretty much falls out of his chair the minute my naked hyena body pops up out of nowhere. He's got the chain hanging off of his pocket with one of those douchebag black tank tops. He looked like one of the extras from Fight Club after his first Rage Against the Machine album! And he's just giving me the calmest look while I'm losing my shit, “Fuckareyoudoingherewhoareyou?!"

To which he collects himself and says, “You're the new recruit, right?"

That's right! “Recruit". All right, let me fucking explain this shit as best I can! It's not gonna be easy, but you'll have to bear with me!

I said, “Sally, what the fuck is going on?" and she starts giving this huge rundown about how she's been visiting the same club again and again, “handing my pussy around until basically every guy was familiar with me". I swear to god, she said it, not me! And she kept doing that until everybody that stuck around got bored of monogamy, and instead just decided, “Fuck it, let's actually just share her instead!" So they all got together, probably in some dusty basement with a swinging lightbulb, coke residue still on the table, and coordinated a schedule with her on when they get to fuck her and where.

I tell her, “Isn't that still technically cheating?" and she's like, “No, Donnie, it's networking."

And I'm like, “All right, can I see the business card? Does it got a little laminated vulva on it?!"

I shit you not, she looks me dead in the eye and says, “I already gave out my only nine"

...Nine.

NINE!

Yup. That's nine! Count 'em: nine dicks she goes between. She's just got a line of dicks waiting for her out the door. Or maybe they're not out the door; they're just hanging from the ceiling, too.

I said, “All right, what the hell does that mean for me?" She says, “Well, I think I could squeeze you in for a ten P.M. appointment for July fourteenth?" That's two weeks from now. And then the other guy's like, “So, what's it gonna be? You in?"

At this point, I'm frozen, cause it's so fuckin' hard to process anything. But there's also this overwhelming wave of “fuck this" that's just washing over me. But I can't clean it up. I got a broken windshield wiper. There's only one card left in the deck! I take my wallet out of her pants, pull my credit card out and say, “Yeah, so, let me get a pecan waffle with a side of sausage for here. Thanks. Thanks a lot."

For here! For here. You heard that right. 'Cause I'm not leaving this shit! If I'm out here getting lured into cheating, I'm soaking up every goddamn second of it! In fact, you know what? I didn't even put my clothes back on. I just sat at an empty table naked except for a leather jacket, poured syrup on my waffle and started spearing it with the fork, taking eight minute long bites. Anything just to fuck with them in the moment, as they just watched me in pure, horrified silence.

I don't know what they expect me to do! Like, I can't leave! She's wearing my clothes, so what the fuck is she gonna do? I'm not breaking any more rules than they are! But I can tell they're pissed off, maybe cause they wanna do the same kinky shit I just did with her.

You know what's the funniest part, though? Eventually I took out a cigarette, and she still said, “No smoking." Like, the audacity!

So I'm sitting there, just trying to look like I'm minding my own business, then all of a sudden the guy says, “Can I have a seat for a sec?"

I'm thinking, “What the fuck is this guy doing?"

This guy sits down, grabs a fork, gives me the most sincere look and is like, “How was your day?"

I'm like, “it was going fine until you interrupted my pussy eating for a fucking cult invitation, you lunatic!"

He says, “I just, I just, I didn't know, man. I thought you were interested."

And listen, I like sex and open relationships as much as the next guy. But you can never trust it with these people! One minute they're promising sex free of charge, next thing you know, they're going, “Uh, actually, phase three of initiation is to shave your pubes in the form of a pentagram."

Anyway, this dude's bombing it, and Sally starts doing the cut thing across her throat. He leaves with his head hung in shame and just tells me to enjoy my meal. It's not even good, like, my plate was too close to the window, so now it's all cold, but hell if it wasn't satisfying.

But it turns out that doesn't matter, cause, Hallelujah, it's the end of her shift. And as she's starting for the door, I'm like, “Hey, aren't you forgetting something?" She gives me this weird grimace like she doesn't know what the fuck I'm talking about. But it's pretty obvious! So she rolls her eyes, brings her hands down, and strips off all my clothes one by one. Then she tosses them by the chair and turns again.

And then, again, she starts for the door as I'm putting on my boxers, and I'm like, “Hey, you're not gonna take the apron, are you?" Clearly her mind's a little cloudy. She stares at me, tilts her hips like this ? she did it better ? and goes, “AUGH." Then walks all the way to the back room. She hangs her apron up, finds her car keys on the table, and without looking at me for a second, walks the whole way back to her car completely naked, then pulls out of the lot and goes zooming off into the night, far, far in the distance! Off to find her knight in shining syphilis!

Other guy looks at me while he's putting on the same apron, himself, and he's like, “...You should go."

So I did.

And yeah.

That's why I'm a pancake guy, now!

I gotta say, though, I really thought we had a chance for a second there! I really, really did. But you know what? At least I had the decency to stop it there. 'Cause there were eight other guys after the first one that didn't mind the whole scheduled fuckfest. Nine fuckin' guys! But that didn't matter to me, though. Life moves on. I got better shit to do. Which, by the way, might be one of you guys after the show, if anybody's up for it!

AM I RIGHT, EVERYBODY?!

I'm gonna leave you off with the story of when me and Sally first met. It was freshman year in college. Stats class, I think. One day she gave me the address to some house so we could study together. It had just gotten done raining when I arrived at the place. I walked in, and as I turned the corner, I see her sittin' on the couch, butt naked licking her paw. I said, “Are you serious? Already?" She points to the kitchen. And I see two sleepy-eyed raccoons there, stuffed all her clothes in a garbage bag off to the side. And I take one look at 'em and I'm like, “...Oh, it's that kind of party."

So we go down to the basement. There's like, ten more people there. Disco ball's turning. The bong's in the middle of a table. The air's all foggy. The ceiling's got those shitty, moveable tiles on top. It's every single thing you'd imagine on a Friday night college party. But when they brought me up a chair, I knew it had a catch. I seated myself at a nice looking table. She sits next to me and smiles, tells me to look at what was on it. At first, I didn't believe it. I was hardly prepared! But that right there was the real deal. And right on the hinge, there was an unmistakable label...number ten!

And I said, “Damn...I can't wait to do my first line of coke!"

Thank you very much, everybody! Shout out to the manager for letting me perform naked! You're all amazing! Goodnight!

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