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"Yeah. So I had sex with Jack and Meg White - in the mouth. You get it now?"

The sheriff was perplexed. "You have a funny way of talking, son." In a vaguely menacing tone (of which he was unaware), he offered up the following: "How would you feel about a work furlough program?"

"I don't know." The youth looked right into the sheriff's eyes. "How would it feel, Mr. Policeman?"

Spontaneously, the sheriff unzipped his fly and removed his genitalia so that it unspilled to rest comfortably on the table top's surface. The table wasn't nearly as cold as he had anticipated. He was thankful the department had spent a little extra money on the table. He deserved better than particle board.

The sheriff, in a bit of a panic, had to improvise. "Well, see, it's on furlough."

The youth, lacking in vocabulary, was quite confused at this point.

"And now," said the sheriff, slapping the member up and down against the table (which he suddenly wished were comprised of a less dense material), "it's a'workin'."

For some reason, the kid couldn't get the intro of Seven Nation Army out of his head, its pulsing rhythms moving perfectly in time with the repeated impact before him.

Date Written: December 15, 2004
Author: Turgid
Average Vote: 2.8