Thursday, January 28, 2010

Because boozy tramps get spanked.

I'm cruising to Kara's place and decide that I'm in the mood for dirty martinis. Lately, I've discovered jalapeno-stuffed olives, which add a subtle and eye-opening zing to them. I text her as I pull off the expressway.

Me: Got gin? Wamme to bring jalapenolives?

Kara: I'd love to kick back and enjoy martinis with you, but only am able to have a little and still be decent at work tomorrow. And it's hard for me to only have one cuz I really like them. :(

Me: I'll keep you in line, you saucy tart. ;)

Kara: Ha! That's ALMOST a challenge!

Me: Yer a gin-soaked trollop who needs to be put in her place. A lush, a speakeasy wanton whose bloomers are due for an unbloomin'. Boozy tramps like you should be spanked. So there.

Kara: Yes *hic* sir! :p

Me: I'll expect you to say that when you're across my knee, after you've counted each firm, cupped swat to your tender ass. Hiccups are optional.

Kara: 1 *hic* 2 ... *hic* ... 5 ... 6 *hic* ... 9 ... :)

Me: Kara. Kara, Kara, Kara. You're forgetting "yes, Sir." Now we're going to have to start all over again. With the paddle. So, stand up... tips to toes...

Kara: Oooh! Okay ... 1 ... 2 *hic* 4 ... 5 ... Oh shoot, I missed "3" ... 3 ... 4 ... 5 ... No, wait, I counted those already ... Better start over *hic* ... 1 ...

Me: *eyeroll* I think it's the boarding school for you, hussy. You require immediate and sustained remediation. Poor you.

Kara: Oh. ... And ... Yes, Sir!

Kara: *hic*

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