Written by Jalapenoman
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Friday, 12 August 2005

image for The First Date With My Wife, or My Way of Saying "None of Your Business" to My Friends Shooting rats and other varmints; what a great start to a date!

I once went out to dinner and a movie with a very attractive and fun woman. It was a first date for the two of us and my first date in over a year. Several church and message board friends who knew of my date had asked me to e-mail them the results and tell them how everything went. What they really wanted to know, in teenage boy terms, was "what base did you get to?" With my penchant for self deprecating humor and knowing that it really wasn’t any of their business, I sent the following letter:

Well, I went out with Victoria (Tory) on Friday night. When I met her, we were both dressed in our finery and were ready for an exciting and romantic evening. We immediately drove to the Otero County dump, where we shot rats, crows, and other varmints with 22’s. We would have stayed longer, but we ran out of ammo and I bent my gun barrel trying to beat a rat that hadn’t died.

After picking the rotten cabbage leaves and other disgusting bits of food and mystery trash from our clothes, we went downtown and tried to give our “bounteous harvest” to the local homeless shelter. Tory offered to make some of her mother’s cornbread stuffing and gravy for the poultry, but we were not sure which part of a crow counted as giblets. For some reason, the shelter was not thrilled by our donations; you could say that they were in a fowl mood!

We then went out and got a bunch of water balloons and eggs and threw them out of the people coming out of the gay bars. While I am not that great of a shot with a balloon, Tory took dead aim. She shot at the flouncy little guys in pink, of course, and not the macho biker types in leather (that were more prone to chase us on their Harleys). I drove the “getaway” car.

We proceeded to a local grocery store. Here, we got into a loud argument over whether Count Chocula, Cocoa Puffs, Cocoa Krispies, and Cocoa Pebbles use dark chocolate or milk chocolate. We demanded that the store’s assistant manager call Kelloggs and General Mills and find our for us (Colonel Mills was acceptable if the General was not in) because I personally prefer milk chocolate (No, just because you add milk to cereal, you do not automatically have milk chocolate).

For dinner, we tried to go to Burger King and have it our way, but they could not accommodate us. My way was to replace the hamburger patty with a rib-eye steak, but it seems that they were not available. Tory didn’t get her way because she wanted her burger served to her by Stone Phillips in a pair of speedos (hey, he is on Dateline).

When the cops later pulled us over for speeding, I could not convince them to give me a breathalizer test while I had pop rocks in my mouth. They also didn’t think it was funny when I gave them her driver’s license and told them it was mine. They had a hard time believing that I had just returned from an operation in Sweden and that she was my twin sister.

The rest of the evening was somewhat anticlimactic. We kept following cars to find teenage parties and would drive up and yell “It’s a raid!” This is only funny a couple of times and then the teenagers start chasing you; we learned this from experience.

I tried to woo Tory by singing some of the more romantic songs of my generation, but “Who’s the leader of the club that’s made for you and me?” didn’t seem to do the trick. Singing the theme song to Flipper didn’t work either. Gilligan’s Island and The Ballad of Jed Clampett were also busts. Her mood changed, however, when I remembered the ever successful and highly suggestive “Plop Plop, Fizz Fizz” song. Instead of getting her hot and bothered, though, she immediately wanted to get up and go tracting (going door to door to hand out religious pamphlets and spread the gospel of your religion). We did manage to teach one discussion and challenge a stray for baptism.

Having failed to convince her to join my harem of polygamous wives after only one date, I returned home. I promise that I will be successful the next time!

I guess that I was successful as I married her on October 3, 2003 She even puts up with my weird sense of humor and was not upset by this letter!.

This, my friends, is also how you let others know that what goes on in your private life is no one else's business!

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

If you fancy trying your hand at comedy spoof news writing, click here to join!
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