Monday, September 24, 2007
As promised on Friday, I took 20 actual search keywords that people have used to find my website and created a story around them...Enjoy!
While eating her HONEY BUNCHES OF OATS cereal, ex-PAN AM STEWARDESS Midge Dallas was reading her husbands pile of REJECTED PENTHOUSE NASTY LETTERS. It crushed him each time got yet another rejection. After the one he received today he had jumped on one of his PURPLE CROTCH ROCKETS and sped away, his MAGNUM PI SUNGLASSES hiding his tears. She knew he needed to be alone, and would most likely seek solace at the HOLYLAND Experience Bible Theme park. There he would eat a Gladiator Burger and caress his FURRY MUSTACHE to soothe his pain. He went there whenever sadness engulfed his life. Like when he saw the Lifetime TV movie starring Patrick Duffy called, “LITTLE BOY BLEEDS TO DEATH AT WALMART”.
Midge skimmed his latest failed effort in amateur porn. This one detailed the time he stole a Chinese knock-off GRIMACE COSTUME from MCDONALDS and made a customized hole in it so he could engage in PANTY PISSING. He didn’t seem to understand that Penthouse readers were more tantalized by terms like SPRING BREAK, BIG BREASTS, and BEACH than they were by stories about husbands pissing on WIVES’ PANTIES.
She sighed and sniffed her STINKY PINKY RING. She wasn’t sure why, but it smelled like cabbage. She put her cereal bowl in the sink, walked into the living room and turned on the TV. With little interest she watched a commercial with a POSING MODEL IN A BIKINI LAYING DOWN and caressing a kitten. How she hated PUSSY PEOPLE. Midge was a dog lover through and through. As if on cue, her dog Charmaine Goldenrod jumped up on the couch with her. She had given the Pomeranian her stage name from her days working the STRIPPER POLE at several ATLANTA STRIP JOINTS. Those had been some tough days, until she landed a steady gig at MAMA D’S ARTS BORDELLO. And it was Mama D herself who encouraged her to pursue her dreams of working for Pan Am. Too bad the airline folded six months later…
At least her husband Dirk Turquoise had entered her life right about then. They rode across the country together until she grew tired of their CROTCH ROCKET GAMES and they settled down. Everything was perfect…except for his frustrated Penthouse Letter dreams. He was convinced that if they published his letter, he could get noticed by a literary agent and sell his book called, “Zen And the Art of Crotch Rocket Maintenance”. If only she could convince him to give it up. If only she could get him to see that some dreams weren’t worth pursuing. If only…
Just then the door flew open and Dirk burst in with a crazy grin on his face.
“Honey, I bought you something. What I have in this bag is gonna give you the wildest night of sexual ecstasy you’ve ever experienced…And I’ll get enough material for a Penthouse Letter that is guaranteed to get published.”
He handed her the bag and she peered inside.
“Dirk, what are these?”
He licked his mustache. “They’re called RESTRAINT PANTIES.”