Boob Honk Saved My Life

It's almost 4 years to the day that a simple quick grab and release of an acquaintance's mammary gland while mimicking a car horn saved my life. Let me set the stage for you.

It was a cold February day as I went to my local watering hole to wet my whistle until my friend's were going to meet me there to celebrate my friend's birthday. I figured I would moderately sip on some suds while I waited for the party to arrive. However, the bartenders were experimenting concoctions of alcohol and decided to use me as the guinea pig, not in the Richard Gere gay way, but in the experimental way.

I had already reenacted my 21st birthday by the time the rest of the party arrived and was feeling rather merry. I then drank enough shots with the rest of the party goers that would have taken me into my golden years. The bar portion of the evening was rather splotchy to say the least but recall slurring grunts at a young lady that caught my eye.

I once heard of a theory that if you gave a bunch of monkeys a typewriter that in time one of them was bound to type a work of Shakespeare. Well my incoherent babbling must have rivaled that because the exact combination of slurred grunts helped make me a new lady friend.

The festivities came to an end as we went outside to hail a cab. My friends were shocked to see me behind them as they thought I was a sure thing to escort this young lady home. We disagreed strongly as to the possibility of that happening to the point that they were physically pushing me back towards the bar. A cab pulled up as my friends jumped in.

A size 16 shoe kicked me in the sternum as I tried to get in. The door closed, and I jumped on the back of the cab and banged on the back window begging them to let me in. I later found out that my friends told the cab driver that I was some crazy street urchin and didn't know who I was. I found it ironic that the very friends who begged me not to procreate were now practicing tough love so I could fornicate with a young lady.

As I dusted myself off, I noticed that my new lady friend had followed me out of the bar and was now watching me. She looked rather confused and said, "Do you want to get something to eat?" Sounded like a great idea to me.

I guess the sight of me eating a reuben grill kicked her libido into overdrive. She reached over to wipe the thousand island dressing off my chin and soon we were making out like a bunch of drunken freshmen at a frat party. She suggested we take a cab back to her place, and that sounded better than my suggestion of splitting some pecan pie.

She pealed my face off of the taxi window when we arrived at her block which appeared to be in the middle of downtown Baghdad. I had some more reservations when we got to the door of her apartment which was guarded by an extra metal gate and numerous locks.

Things picked up in her living room. I was rather inebriated and stumbled out of the batters box, turned my ankle rounding first base but was heading into second when I got the stop sign. "Do you know my name?"

I'm guessing at some time during the night she had told me her name, but I had no idea for the life of me as to what it was. Her eyes soon began to fill with rage with each passing second as I stared blankly at her. My first reaction was to laugh and lunge in thinking she might forget about it as soon as she tasted my Thousand Island drenched tongue in her mouth again.

I judged wrong. She was irate. My next plan of action was to guess her name by what she looks like. She looked like a Deborah to me but soon found out I was mistaken.

Now this Deborah-looking girl lived up to the Shakespeare saying that hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn. I knew that if I didn't act fast that I would be sent half drunk and dazed onto the streets of what appeared to be Baghdad.

I had to act fast.

I instantly grabbed her boob and squeezed as I said, "HONK!"

She glared at me with death in her eyes as she said, "Did you just fu*king honk my boob?"

"Yes," I said. "Get it? Like it's a car horn? Isn't that hilarious?"

"Are you mentally challenged or something?" she said.

"Come on," I said. "That is hilarious." I then grabbed it again and said, "Honk."

By now she was irate. However, she was so stunned that I honked her boob that she had completely forgotten about the fact that I forgot her name. I then yawned as she was still dazed and suggested we go to bed.

There would be no fornication for me that night, but it saved me from walking through downtown Baghdad in a heavily inebriated state. I am sure I wouldn't have been typing this now if it were not for my quick thinking and boob honking.

I then waited until she was out for the count and searched her house for any clues as to her moniker. I found a diploma on the wall of her room and found out that her name was Michelle, and she was none the wiser. I slept like a baby that night.

The next morning, she woke up and asked me if I had really forgot her name. I said, "Michelle, do you honestly think for a minute that I forgot your name?" She then even felt a little guilty for accusing me and then made me eggs.

Moral of the story: the next time a woman is mad at you, honk her boob. She will completely forget what she was mad about or at least buy you some time.