Pork
12.1.2k8

My brother moved recently. His new apartment is in a five-story apartment building and he lives on the third floor in apartment 312. One floor above him, in 412, lives a real-live whore!! There's the obvious drawbacks to living under a whore, but as this one is a "Ritz Carlton" whore, it's not as bad as one would think. Loud sometimes, but not really the icky, junky, street-walking type. My brother figures she has regular johns, as the bed upstairs creaks at regular intervals.

Anyway, I tell you this because my brother told me a fun story. It was a week or two after he moved in and after a busy week and an especially tough Friday that at 11:45p he decided to call it a night. Moments after he settled in, he heard a couple loud grrrrls approaching from down the hall. Moments later, someone put their shoulder into his door and began to pound on it. "Roxy!! Roxy!!! Open up!!" My brother thought, what the hell, and opened up.

Outside stood two drunk skinny girls in big black boots, tight dresses and a lot of hairspray and makeup. They regarded each other a few seconds. Standing there in nothing but black socks and happiness, he said to the two "marina skanks," "I think you want the floor above me. But, hell, if you want a couple Miller Lites™ and some Triscuits™, come on in." They declined.

Tonight - Lucky 13.



bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!