It'd Be Rude Not To

A blonde gets home early from shopping and hears strange noises coming from the bedroom. She rushes upstairs to find her husband naked on the bed, sweating and panting.

"What's up?" she asks.

"I'm having a heart attack," cries the husband.

The blonde rushes downstairs to grab the phone, but just as she's dialing, her four-year-old son comes up and says, "Mommy! Mommy! Aunt Shirley is hiding in your closet, and she's got no clothes on!"

The blonde slams the phone down and storms upstairs into the bedroom, right past her husband, and rips open the closet door.Sure enough, there is her sister, totally naked and cowering on the closet floor.

"You rotten bitch!" she screams.

"My husband's having a heart attack, and you're running around naked scaring the kids!!"

***

Despite this being yet another blonde joke to roll my eyes at, it did make me laugh. Then I started thinking about how I would react if I was ever in the blonde's shoes. (I'm not gonna touch on the sister bit...me? naked? hiding in a closet?...how is one to keep one's arms in the air, if there are clothes etc hanging over one's head? Too far removed from any goal I have in life I'm afraid. Not to mention the fact that she had no shoes on for me to put my feet in anyway.)

So, what DO you do when you're faced with this scenario? Drag the sister out of the wardrobe and whoop her hiney? You know that would only give the man time to get away right?...and that wouldn't be proper now would it? Can't have him missing out on all the fun and games...men and their egos...bound to feel neglected. It's the polite thing to do yes? I am, if nothing else, a caring and thoughtful hostess.

Leap on the man and thrash around on the bed with him? In my body's present frame of mind?...not a bad option...but one could lose focus and actually start enjoying oneself. Whilst the thought of having some wild monkey sex is extremely appealing and has me feeling breathless at the visual...it would be best not to get within 2 feet of aforementioned bed. Just in case...because as we already know, one can get sidetracked very quickly when hormones are longing for body contact.

Therefore, I feel the best thing to do...is to remove the bazooka (that you have constructed lovingly from schematics, care of the internet of course), from it's secret compartment at the back of the pantry...and blow them both to smithereens.

I realise it'd be a rather large mess to clean up afterwards, but honestly...she should've known better than to get that close to my shoes. And he should've known better than to put her in that position in the first place.

The cheek of it.

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