fishbeer

Mar 16 2011 4:08 pm

spring is trying to spring

Spring had sprung and so had Frank.  He shook violently awake and sat quickly up in bed, dazed though ready.  Crusty eyes, easy conscious.  He threw the blankets back and swung his legs over the side and stood.  His boner was so big it nearly hit the closet door. 


Seemingly inspired, he leaned to the right and made like a spring under tension.  Holding this position for a moment he looked down once more then burst forward, head lowered shoulders square.  He busted straight through the bedroom wall and onto the sidewalk where he stood for a moment covered in dust with bits of splintered wood falling from his shoulders and boxer shorts.  He shook his head and went east at a trot, waving at neighbors, “Hey neighbors!  What’s cookin’?  Smells good!”  His erection swinging up and down and side to side in his shorts with each step. 


A neighbor waved back, “Hey Frank!  Good to see you out of the house!”


The sun was shining hard but there was a cold wind off the lake.  Gravel sand patch of snow.  Patch of snow.  Gravel.  I hope I don’t step on a piece of glass.  Bare feet not a smart move buddy.  Should have put some shoes on.  Should have used the door.  Africans run barefoot for miles.  Probably less broken glass over there.  Though less venomous snakes to worry about here so I’ve got that going for me.


Theme of last week: awesome clients, awesome drinks, tough fishing.  Of course I don’t have a fucking picture of the one nice steelhead we actually landed.


Anybody want to book a trip with me?  I’m bad at basketball.

 

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