I saw you at Tea Lounge Saturday afternoon. I was sitting on the brown recliner near the coffee bar with my laptop, secretly masturbating to pixelated photos of Tina Yothers from "Family Ties". You were the tall blonde MILF, chatting with some dumpy brunette. Your kid was parading around the cafe, mashing chocolate frosting into clean tables and tossing half-eaten chunks of food at nearby patrons.
Your child's stroller was parked in the middle of a busy aisle, blocking my view of your bod. Thankfully, an old man tripped over one of its wheels and it rolled forward as he flailed to the ground. Then like a dream, I saw the hot pink glow of your Crocs, illuminating the bulging varicose veins in your husky, unshaven legs. It was like a Lite Brite toy, beckoning me to plug my bulbs into your peg board.
It was obvious that you were checking me out, since you failed to notice that your daughter ate a tube of lipstick and started drinking an enema bag she fished from your purse, thinking it was a Capri Sun. I saw you writing something on a piece of newspaper before you left, so I got up to check the table once you walked away. Unfortunately, amongst the massive pile of dirty napkins, crumbs, broken plates, and a puddle of spilled coffee, all I could find was a crumpled note that said, "Here's a tip for the mess", along with two quarters.
MILF, I wanna be your baby! Call me!
Monday, October 4, 2010
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