.45 Caliber Headspace

So, I’d like to talk to you about something important right now, STDs. I got the clap once from this crazy white chick. Using “crazy” just then may form an oxymoron, but why did I specify “white” chick? I’ll get back to that. But crazy, yeah. This chick’s crazy had a capital ‘C’. She asked me for some lube and I was like, “Right on, she wants to get those sweet spots ready, cut right to the chase.” So I tell her, “Help yourself from the lube drawer over there, third down. Nope, nope, that’s anal beads.” So she gets the lube and proceeds to completely baste herself in it, just greasing up every shock and piston. She knew what she was doing, too. I was like, “I don’t know what exactly is about to go down, but fucking BRING IT!”. My testicles were about the size of cannonballs at this point, and fully capable of penetrating the hulls of ships if, in fact, fired from a cannon.

But, back to the clap. First, I want to know how it got this nickname, because a clap is something you generally associate with something good you want to show appreciation of, like a fine performance, or the ability to turn off your lights while in bed or when you’ve fallen and can’t get up. There is, however, no appreciation to be had in this thing of which I speak. THIS variety of clap. This clap is a so-not-good thing. It starts innocently enough. You’ll think to yourself, “Hmmm, there’s something not quite right down there.” Within two days, however, the time it takes to present, “Hi! We haven’t met. Let me introduce myself!”, by this time it will have begun to unleash it’s full wrath. The “not quite right” will soon become an “Oh, my sweet Jesus!” and you will be hunkered in a corner of your domicile (or cubicle), begging for absolution of your sins. “I will never bed with a white chick again, dear Lord!” That’s not the white chick thing, though, wait for it, wait…Anyways, yes, it’s a short-term living hell that can only be reversed with antibiotics. They gave me those antibiotics and I was chomping them like Pez. I put them in my Chewbacca Pez dispenser and Chewbacca was having epileptic spasms, just rockin’ his head back like crazy. “Living hell, be gone!”

Still, after it clears up, you’ll tell all your friends, “That was soooooo worth it.” In fact, I may now know where it got this nickname, because I believe immediately following that performance, I did actually clap in appreciation. I may even have waved my lighter in the air. So what is the moral of this story, you may ask? This is it. ALWAYS wear a condom with white chicks…because…they get around. In fact, I’m gonna share something with you. There is actually a very precise formula for determining a white chick’s get-aroundedness. Prepare for some cut & paste, gents, this is important. The formula is…2 Cosmos + an “I like your shoes” = get around time. So, there it is. The formula is much more complex for other species of chick, but for white chicks it doesn’t take a Good Will Hunting to figure out the formula. It’s very, very simple.

ATTENTION: If you or someone you know thinks they may have the clap, please contact Jake Charles (Email: moc.liamg@selrahcXekaj Addr: 4025 9th Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94116-1302)